Lyricizes

On the monitor I can see

the children of my bad-days,

the offspring of my ineffective living,

clustering like fruit

disallowing any real life

to root.

I have conceived

a syndrome

a malfunction

a sabotage,

a betrayal.

*”Ya Mawla, send prayers and peace always and forever Upon Your beloved, the best out of all of Creation.” –

They stoned you once
until your feet were shod in the blood
that was to be the balm for humankind.

And now they stone you again,
their trajectories more sinisterly misguided,
for they stumble blindly on your path.

*excerpt from Qasida Burdah by Imam al-Busiri

When will it be

that a generation

has its baksheesh

not as some grudging gineh

tossed into a palm

but as a sweet freedom

dripping off of kunafa.

A huriya lingering and sticky,

smothering old bitterness,

of bread queues,

and wanting,

and wanting,

and needing,

and needing.

Bukra Insha-Allah.

No.

His Will is Today.



—

hura – Free

baksheesh – gift/ euphemism for a tip

gineh – the Egyptian Pound

kunafa – a type of sweet

huriya – Freedom

Bukra Insha-Allah – Tomorrow, God Willing.

How is it that
a light in my heart
becomes
a stone in your hand?

That a tongue in your mouth
is a butchering spear,
when the remembrance of Him
should make us all whole instead?

Why must
fire be put to flesh
before the ragmen
are smoked out?

Some words
are like compressed
hand wipes.
All they need is a
slick of saliva
or brain juice
for them to moisten
in mouths
and membranes
and expand
beyond their
capsule dimensions.
to spread and spread
like heavy wet shrouds
until your mind
struggles under the weight
and adjusts to the sudden dark.
a word-like burkah.