My Hijab and I

By zarnab tufail

i ask if i can take her off

you hold my finger and point it to your heart

‘she protects us’

the garden has all colors and a black

unshaded, unmatched, the outcast

tangled mind wrapped in a plain maze

yes, sometimes, she makes no sense, yes, i wish to throw her away

but mama says she saves me

eyes never turn to question my brain

the ravishing glass of fame

my hands familiarize with the touch

how the veil perfectly caresses them

telling my hair, they all need to cuddle in

veiling is meant to make me feel at home

some days, she is home, wrapped in a blanket of wool

knitted in mauve and yellow flowers

others, she makes me wonder if she is nothing but shackled pain?

but unlike my other habits,

i have not abandoned her