Author’s note: I was on a trip and had to wear a burqa and it hurt me; I couldn’t talk, couldn’t move, and couldn’t breathe. The only thing I could do was write down my feelings. Thanks to God that I have the writing blog now.

burqaI see from
the windows of my burqa
but I do not see.
Where is the sky?
The world is not so big for me.

There is no world.
I live in the prison
under my burqa
no permission to breathe the air.
I am a woman

Men are jobless.
With nothing good to do,
they discovered burqa for me.
There is so much under my burqa
It is the cemetery of my identity
A woman’s grave
Prison of the air
Enemy of my personality

I love my hejab
I love my Allah
I love Islam
But the burqa is not the hejab
if it is, why don’t I wear it when I pray?

I ask you God
I ask you God

By Roya