Untitled, by Omar Lukatz

The cold wind brushing against my revealed arms.

My black jeans block the chilly air from my legs,

But some still manages to slip through my button-down shirt.

Step by step as I approach it,

I feel the pressure of one thousand faces staring at me.

I felt a drop of sweat slowly make its way down the side of my face,

But that drop was never even there.

I kept my cool.

I remembered who was there.

I remembered who was watching.

I kept moving forward, never to face my back.

I looked up to the sky,

And I thought to myself about how fast the clouds were moving.

If they’d take me with them?

What if I mess up?

What if they hear it?

What will they say?

I lifted my arms slowly,

And see them tremble.

I try to stop it but can’t hold it in.

I put my hands on the wall and started to speak.

I said the prayer I had been studying for what felt like an eternity.

And took a deep breath in holding back the emotions

From such a precious moment

As to not cause a scene and disrupt people’s prayers.

That moment was

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