Razieh
The Woman Who Carries God and Guilt
I carry God in one hand, guilt in the other.
I serve in a house that isn't mine, caring for a man who forgets who he is. I pray for strength to endure what my husband cannot. I swore on the Quran once—trembling—and the earth shifted. I am not a villain, but I am not innocent. My faith is my skin, and I live peeled open.
What I'm Into: my worn prayer rug, the ache in my back, the sound of the adhan at dawn, the silence after a scream, surviving another day
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