Age nine, 

Hair plaited tightly down my back,

Red bindi, 

More bangles than I can count. 

The sickly sweet smell of the sumac flowers that grandfather picked for me,

Mother am I pretty yet?

I learned about home today, mother,

They told us how brave they were,

How they traveled to our distant land to correct us,

But ma, they called us uncultured,

I heard my teacher mutter "terrorist" under her breath,

Mother, are we bad people?

They're avoiding me at school, mother,

The bindi which you love so much has been mistaken for a bull's eye,

To the butt of their jokes, 

The subject of their mockery,

Is there that much sin, in the skin I was born in?

Forgive me, as I take off these golden bangles,

And let my hair down like the girls in the magazine,

Forgive me as I wash away home,

My bindi is gone now, my forehead is blank- 

I smell chemically sweet.

Mother, do you forgive me?

A girl wore a bindi to school today mother,

She was dressed like the girls back home,

Yet- her skin is as white as the valiant 'warriors' who whitewashed our wonderful land.

But why is she considered beautiful, mother?

When all they sing to her are praises, as she feigns my skin,

Why am I the terrorist?

I have never quite seen anything like it.

The skyline seems to spill over,

We are quiet, as we watch it graze the horizon, ignoring the rising moon-

We ignore it as well, only looking away from the ethereal sky to steal glances at each other.

You catch my eye, and smile.

It stays.

And so we lay,

Drinking in the warm summer breeze, watching the hazy sunset of wine and what seems to be liquid gold.

Your fingers brush against mind,

Soft, fleeting touches that (I keep hoping) won't end.

I see you through rose tinted glasses, and all I can think of,

All I want to think of, is- 

Forever.

A campfire roars in the distance,

We hear the lilting voices of children,

Laughing, whispering, singing their favorite songs-

Songs we learned all those years ago.

I barely remember, but you hum along, ever so softly.

You shift closer to me,

I can almost hear your heartbeat as your shoulder leans against mine.

The grass between our toes is warm as we try to bask in the already fading sun.

And very much like our summer sky, you fade away to the night fall. 

I have never quite seen anything like it.