(trying out a new style, decided to try writing from the perspective of an Arab woman jilted by her husband and subsequently becomes less sure she’ll be going to paradise)
Yā zawjiy! Yā habiybiy! How could you do this to me?
The woman who has loved you through thick and through thin,
And who birthed your 3 sons – strong, smart, handsome
And religious – despite you shipping them off to uni in a filthy ajamiy (non-Arab) country!
By HIM in whose hand is my soul, I curse you.
Ilā jahiyma maïk, to hell with you!
I hate you! I curse you! I hate you! I curse that I still love you.
You can afford a golden mansion with a view of the sun rising upon the house of Allah,
I wallow in my own fat all day, the slaves have to do my walking for me because you can afford to work so hard,
You can afford to earn more money than you can spend or give in charity
Yet you can’t afford to pay attention to my needs in my hour of need,
Instead sniffing around the Sahara to drag back some young skinny bitch and remarry? You son of a stray dog!
Yā zawjiy! Yā habiybiy! How could you want to remarry?
How can you get bored of a great great granddaughter of the prophet – peace and blessings of Allah be on him?
Reams of raven silk that don’t end where my hijāb begins,
Eyes deep and blue as the sea, skin so pale the marrow of my bones shows through,
Piety so high Allah the Most High has pardoned all my sins and promised me a station in the sky.
It’s said paradise lies at the feet of the mothers. Well I’d have gladly taken your mother‘s place
To personally see you in yet you revile me like you revile your mother’s back.
You’ve divorced me without letting yourself know, you think not but I know so.
That’s the way it always goes. But even so… I don’t want you to go.
Yā zawjiy! Yā habiybiy! If you’ve taken a new wife do you no longer love me?
And instead of the garden, has Allah prepared a different destiny?
© One Tawny Stranger 2014