Maryam Iffath

Me And My Veil.

Oppressed and broken she labels me,
As I walk with my veil,
Ill-treated and crushed she thinks,
As I walk with my veil.

Brainwashed and clueless,
She calls out to me,
As I walk with my veil,
Sticks and stones she throws,
As I walk with my veil.

Thank God,
She says for that veil of yours,
One less ugly sight for today,
She says,
As I walk with my veil.

Hey sexy,
They call out to her,
This is what is called freedom she says,
This is what is called freedom,
Not that you’ll ever know,
With that veil of yours,

With their prying eyes,
As though they are inspecting meat,
They pounce on her,
Like a herd of savage animals.

I walk with that veil of mine,
Towards her hand,
Before it disappears and gives up its struggle.

Instantly all attention is toward me,
Faces in disgust and the usual name-calling,
But as I run with my veil,
And her hand in mine
She now knows who is really free.

Free to express myself despite what others think,
Free from paying for the vile desires of others,
Free from acting upon the repellent requests of others,
I stand proud and free,
As I walk with my veil.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, March 16, 2009

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Comments about Me And My Veil. by Maryam Iffath

  • Steve Blair (6/2/2009 3:34:00 PM)

    I love this poem - it really challenges preconceptions, so thanks.

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