Here’s to those who are not afraid to smile. To letting one’s inner light shine, even through the darkness.
To confronting ourselves, our voices, and to emerge true, true to who we are and what we’ve lived through.
To fight for our dreams without submitting, without rules of gender, or “sanity”. I’m no longer afraid to walk alone, and no longer afraid to speak my mind, to support the good fights like equal rights and true hearts. I no longer aim to please, or long to be accepted. We are what we are, I am, that I am.
There’s no exact english equivalent for the word tansheer
is a bulky awkward mouthful
that doesn’t quite spin like “dryer”
is a woman in a floral galabiya
with a round tub of wet laundry next to her feet
checking to see if the neighbors downstairs
cleared their clotheslines
is mama reminding you
to hold out the shirts at arm’s length
and snap out the wrinkles and excess water
is groaning that you’re late for work
can’t I do it when I get home?
is panties on the nearest line
behind the towels and bed sheets
is the gunshot of thunder
that signals a hurtling stampede towards the balcony
to rescue dry clothes from the gray sky
is a pair of furtive eyes
in his undershirt and slippers
clumsily hanging clothes in the belly of the night
is a middle-aged engineer
wringing his mother’s nightgowns
in the golden sunlight
is the flap in the evening breeze
your wardrobe on display
colors, colors, colors
is the stars overhead
and prayer on your breath
water stinging your palms
is when water droplets
tap out your name
and I smile.