A Summer Of Questions Poem by Asma Khan

Do they still call me unreadable?
like eyes go blurred in enormous light

Do they still believe me fortunate?
like the luck favors the brave and no one else

Do they still owe me promises?
like the clouds that come without a shower, but shades

Do they still hope of me endlessly?
like waves brush all marks off the shore

Do they still keep me abandoned?
like winds force you to close your eyes in storms

Do they still stand with me undoubtedly?
like the faith that grows each time you pray

Do they still portray me unimaginable?
like the Eliot piece of dead art work with no existence

Do they still hold me guilty?
like destiny gives no one a chance to write it