Yemeni Girl

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