Rx
She slides next to me on the seafoam cushioned bench
Walnut hair dips beyond shoulders loose wavy curls
Olive skin earthy undertones as fertile as the ground
Ella no habla inglés
Her belly swells with life
I am afraid for her for them
Standing across from us
A Middle Eastern woman
Wears a cardamom colored hijab
My heart hums
Assalamu alaikum
I am afraid for her
I arise from the bench
As the Spanish speaking pharmacist
Bridges the gap for the señorita
Whose voice is as soft as a baby’s blanket
I glance at my heavily melanated skin blackberry brambles
My eyes dart across the hallway
Focusing on the Muslim woman
Before resting upon the young Latina girl
Sorrowfully realizing this apothecary
Carries no medicine
That will heal our societal ills
I am afraid for us
5 thoughts on "Rx"
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You paint a very intimate scene here, really making us care for the other women even though no words are spoken with them.
Thank you for your kind words. My visit to the pharmacy was surreal. I honestly felt scared for each woman and the unborn child.
I am quite aware that I am a woman of color, but at that moment I was focused on them (and another Muslim lady who came later). Then I happened to glance downwards, and I saw my skin. I realized I am them.
I love your vivid descriptions. My favorite line is “my heavily melanated skin blackberry brambles” gorgeous alliteration!
Thank you. Initially, I had only described my skin as heavily melanated. Then I thought that I needed to be as descriptive with the color of my skin as the Latina young lady.
I think it was a very effective choice!