I was confined in four walls made of gold and emeralds,Guarded by a huge diamond dome caressing the PalaceThat Palace belonged to me,But I was not the decider of fate of anythingbeyond the colour of my walls and the the diamonds on my vaseI first wore a hijabWhen I got my first periodsI still remember going for hijab shoppingI was barely 14But ripe enough to get marriedI shuffled through different piecesWith no colour optionsBut only blackAnd not many material options to choose fromI picked one,ReluctantlySo would have been my mother and her motherI entered the shopas a young girlBut returned as a womanWith curious gaze of testosteroneTrying to get a glimpse of ‘the woman behind the veil’Everywhere I wentI stumbled i wondered i fellBut it all never fell in placeMy sister says her best friend was killedLoving an American was her sinStones rest pelted on her bodyWas it an aversion to the dark-darker-darkest SaudiI still lay awake in my bedNothing is too muchFor my headNothing is too muchFor my head. ~T