I can’t forget her.
I can’t forget the way she shyly lowers her head as she said she memorized a beautiful Arab song a week before,
in front of a crowd full of confused Americans
and she said she was happy she did it.
I can’t forget her petite black bicycle she told me
she pulled apart, into her luggage,
through the airport security check,
so that she can fly,
and then land in a new place where she can ride her black bicycle.
I can’t forget her white teeth
that innocently gleamed,
as her pride glowed in halo
against the sun that left her home.
I can’t forget the picture in her smartphone background,
an impromptu portrait of a woman elegantly poised with a scarf wrapped around,
and her bitter lips spreading over her teeth,
smiling against a shadow so thick.
9.27.2019
