dhuhr [mid-afternoon]
I didn't know what it
would feel like on the
other side of the sign, yet I
тнoυgнт about it ｏｆｔｅｎ.
It was a geometrically
incorrect thought,
perhaps lacking equivalent
ѕуммєтяу, with light
shining ｂｅｔｗｅｅｎ the barricades.
And I could tell you
that I was afraid,
but simply there was
more of a ʐεṡτ
of ｈａｎｋｅｒｉｎｇ
into an unknown realm.
So really, fear was a
¢нєαρ replacement
of ingratitude to God,
that hung damply
atop my shoulder βĹĂĎĔŚ
in the
mid-afternoon gloom.
The ČĂŔĎβŐĂŔĎ that lay
ιитєятωιиє∂
in my fingers was liṃρ,
ｅｔｃｈｅｄ with black letters.
Maybe I liked it that way,
maybe I couldn't bear the
help of another person,
maybe; but I had
to αссερτ it.
YOU ARE READING
faded blue
Poetryin which a girl writes down her thoughts on tattered blue pages, with only a worn-out copy of the Quran, a long dress, two granola bars, three dollars and her Lord to guide her while surviving on the streets of New York City. ~ They say that somewhe...
