Choice by Fatma AlSumaiti

I choose, I choose, I
choose.

I am a woman.
Blood running veins
weaved as Arab.
And I
I choose. 

Looking into my
own insides.
The wrinkles forming
from this unforgiving
sun.

I choose.
To be angry.
To be delirious.

I choose to give
my cells, bones,
and everything that
holds me together.

I chose you.
I choose you.
“Why can’t you see me?
Everyone else can.”

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