Legacy of those who came before.
Born on stilts, I have no choice but to stand tall.
Women in my blood.
Painted with brushes of the past,
present in my soul.
Golden garbs of modesty sown by believers before me.
An illuminating reflection of what I should be.
Always reaching for the light of Queens.
My namesakes stand before me and shine modesty of a humbled degree,
submitting to the resplendence of Allah’s decree.
Half the sky but all the stars the Moon can see.
Persistent fire in a degrading society.
They ban Hijab and steal modesty.
Dear France, I am caped in modesty.
standing on something taller than beauty, despite what your laws decree.
America, you can’t air brush me.
I am cloaked in something stronger than insecurities and fake images on T.V.
No time for colonized images of what a women “should be.”
There is an ocean covering all the pearls that she be—