As I Return Home

_{Photo by Kleigh Balugo}

By Molly Zofia

As I return home

In the witching hour 

I feel what women fear.

Streetlights burn our bodies and 

Douse our skin in fire-

A beacon of visibility

That sets alight anxieties and

Blisters with the 

Aching encouragement of an

Uninvited gaze.

Quietly, the streets 

Divine a story

Predicted, never prevented-

A girl walks home alone

And only wishes that she were.

And so,

We pray for ghosts 

In placeholders of men

To meet spectres or figures

That spend their nights with 

Our hopes for safety-

Comforting the 

Dead notions that haunt us 

In daylight and in darkness

While our cries for help

Face criminalisation

In the form of peaceful protest.