3 views
something concrete please
بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
it was a warm night
we drove together to the masjid
i checked the basement before salah
there seemed to be a party when i poked my head in
yikes, i left right quick pitter pattering back up three flights of stairs
past the corkboard about the rights of our prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم
past the double doors which request all to clean their hands and wear a mask before entry (i did neither though i had a mask around my neck, couldn’t breathe enough)
into the big window room with the printer and sadaqah safe
there i waited for a lecture that did not seem to be arriving
a pair of little girls asked each other who i was
another child asked for napkins and blew her nose with them
then my companion called my phone to say let’s leave
we left, me and my grandfather, and spoke over the wind tumbling through the car window
i asked to keep the typewriter
it was a warm night
hi neighbor said a neighbor as we went in
hello i responded, but he didn’t seem to see me
i left for my walk while he spoke to my grandfather
it was still the waqt of maghrib
i left, feeling guilty
my body was crying to be moved, so i ran and ran long and loping
i came back too soon because i remembered the instructions of our messenger صلى الله عليه وسلم
i repented and went into the house upon the name of God
i knocked and spoke the salutation, peace be upon you
up the stairs i went, up those carpeted blocks, up
i texted and waiting and sought names in my email which had not arrived
discouraged, i checked very thoroughly but my email remained as it had been for days
down the stairs i went, down a curving path to the food-place, down
i did some dishes and boiled some noodles and came back upstairs
i tried to respond to emails and got distracted, sorry i know it’s been a week, sorry
i tried to write my thoughts and couldn’t
the words and feelings were congested in my chest and knuckles and elbows and carpal tunnels and eyes
aah, melancholy
it was a warm night so I thought of that one Arizona Ramadan which was strange and good while I was bad bad bad
please recite one more surah, one more ayah, why do you stop so soon
i miss taraweeh and Ramadan, please let my empty heart hear a little more
and i thought i had recovered but i keep thinking about what i told her on friday morning
strange that i spoke such things without choking
stranger still that i went to a meeting afterwards and acted like an extrovert, i helped the guy orchestrating the meeting get snacks from his car, i made conversation with him on the way, i took initiative in introducing myself to every person in the room, i chatted absurdly, dissociating and open, strangely
and what is this now, have i just written 432 words without breaking stride
and what is this, now still soaked in melancholy, who am i
this is new, this is strange and unfamiliar, i didn’t know i had these capacities, who am i
and please don’t look at me assessing my body as though my clothes were for nothing
and please don’t grab my limbs to goggle at my skin
i wear layers and 5 sizes up and long sleeves but it seems for naught
i cannot acheive invisibility
people remember me though i forget them
and please i will not know who you are if you change your hair style
nor if i see you out of our established context unless you have a distinct voice or manner
miss, i cannot achieve invisibility
how do i feel under the stage lights of attention
i feel them burning me with their intense brightness
i feel a flush of fear i need to flee
let me be let me out of your unsafe gaze
made so only by what is embedded in my mind
that is how i feel, miss, what of it
what do you mean when you tell me to heal
what is this vague objective and how do i achieve it
do you even know or are you just parrotting the general worldwide discourse
give me something concrete, miss, give me direction
it was a warm night
we drove together to the masjid
i checked the basement before salah
there seemed to be a party when i poked my head in
yikes, i left right quick pitter pattering back up three flights of stairs
past the corkboard about the rights of our prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم
past the double doors which request all to clean their hands and wear a mask before entry (i did neither though i had a mask around my neck, couldn’t breathe enough)
into the big window room with the printer and sadaqah safe
there i waited for a lecture that did not seem to be arriving
a pair of little girls asked each other who i was
another child asked for napkins and blew her nose with them
then my companion called my phone to say let’s leave
we left, me and my grandfather, and spoke over the wind tumbling through the car window
i asked to keep the typewriter
it was a warm night
hi neighbor said a neighbor as we went in
hello i responded, but he didn’t seem to see me
i left for my walk while he spoke to my grandfather
it was still the waqt of maghrib
i left, feeling guilty
my body was crying to be moved, so i ran and ran long and loping
i came back too soon because i remembered the instructions of our messenger صلى الله عليه وسلم
i repented and went into the house upon the name of God
i knocked and spoke the salutation, peace be upon you
up the stairs i went, up those carpeted blocks, up
i texted and waiting and sought names in my email which had not arrived
discouraged, i checked very thoroughly but my email remained as it had been for days
down the stairs i went, down a curving path to the food-place, down
i did some dishes and boiled some noodles and came back upstairs
i tried to respond to emails and got distracted, sorry i know it’s been a week, sorry
i tried to write my thoughts and couldn’t
the words and feelings were congested in my chest and knuckles and elbows and carpal tunnels and eyes
aah, melancholy
it was a warm night so I thought of that one Arizona Ramadan which was strange and good while I was bad bad bad
please recite one more surah, one more ayah, why do you stop so soon
i miss taraweeh and Ramadan, please let my empty heart hear a little more
and i thought i had recovered but i keep thinking about what i told her on friday morning
strange that i spoke such things without choking
stranger still that i went to a meeting afterwards and acted like an extrovert, i helped the guy orchestrating the meeting get snacks from his car, i made conversation with him on the way, i took initiative in introducing myself to every person in the room, i chatted absurdly, dissociating and open, strangely
and what is this now, have i just written 432 words without breaking stride
and what is this, now still soaked in melancholy, who am i
this is new, this is strange and unfamiliar, i didn’t know i had these capacities, who am i
and please don’t look at me assessing my body as though my clothes were for nothing
and please don’t grab my limbs to goggle at my skin
i wear layers and 5 sizes up and long sleeves but it seems for naught
i cannot acheive invisibility
people remember me though i forget them
and please i will not know who you are if you change your hair style
nor if i see you out of our established context unless you have a distinct voice or manner
miss, i cannot achieve invisibility
how do i feel under the stage lights of attention
i feel them burning me with their intense brightness
i feel a flush of fear i need to flee
let me be let me out of your unsafe gaze
made so only by what is embedded in my mind
that is how i feel, miss, what of it
what do you mean when you tell me to heal
what is this vague objective and how do i achieve it
do you even know or are you just parrotting the general worldwide discourse
give me something concrete, miss, give me direction
