breathin again

it is not that I ever felt uneasy calling myself a Muslim.

I have always known who I am

but sometimes,

the world around me makes me feel like I have to whisper

what should have been a song

like I have to fold myself smaller

just to fit inside someone else’s idea of peace,

but when I see my brother,

Zohran Mamdani,

and his team -

their courage, their fire

I feel something unmistakably light

like a burden lifted from my soul

like a light igniting my soul

I feel

hope

that being Muslim in America can mean standing tall,

not shrinking to fit someone else’s comfort.

hope that our stories, our prayers, our names

can be spoken without apology

and suddenly, it is as if the air is different-

clearer, kinder

I want to climb to a rooftop,

throw my arms wide,

and shout until my lungs are empty:

I am happy to be Muslim again

this time -

free

living

breathing…