Some say our earth is splitting in two Shifting off its axis in directions anew Parallel worlds, a rift at the core One is wrought with strife and war Contentions and conflicts and hate galore This land is mine! They thunder and roar I was here 3000 years before! Decrees keep pelting like acid rain From the sacramental mouths of men Sitting in legislative dominion Your bodies, our choice say all those Born in the spitting image of god The owners, the stoners, the masters, the lords
The other earth … well that is a mystery Wrapped in illusions, visions and dreams Aspirations so secret They lie buried beneath Lungsful of air Every stalwart heartbeat Where Biology is a factual thing Not contorted into statutes and bills Where connections are made Forged by the soul Where language and lore And race and skin Are just rainbows that arch Over our beautiful earth
They say the split is cleaving in two Our world of bloodied green and blue I want to be with the ephemeral lot The one that’s poetic, as yet unbegot Even if that means that I will cease To have and to hold, to breathe and to be At least I’ll be done with our broken world Be a star in the sky An autumn-blown leaf And that dear friend is all that I want When I introspect When I really delve deep.
I want to walk into the sunset Far, far away from here Find a portal for myself, whisk away to somewhere else Far away from here But my dear what then? What will become of you I think I’m the crutch that you lean on The weathered plank that you pace on Ironically your prop so hardy Has grown a rift, become foolhardy A fissure sprung in my core Where it must mature into rings Of mellow age and other things But the cleft, a secret break Hidden away has slowly swelled With snaggy splinters, spiny edged Letting in light that I had lost Golden- yellow, shimmering, quiet And it has cleaved the crack some more More and more clearly I see the door Where the gleam keeps pulling me Towards the sunset thrilling me Far, far away from here.
Autumn’s here, the leaves they fall As they do when summer drifts away Slowly leaf by leaf, butterflies and bees All whisk away to other places where nippy winds Frost-nibbled grass and bare trees Have had their day. They change places For a spell, the cities wear new faces Borrowed for a while They smile, they sleep, they laugh, they dream Hand in hand with the people passing by
Autumn’s here, the leaves should fall As they do when summer slips away But the seasons can’t find their way Into this city, its leaves, butterflies and bees Have ceased to be. Permanently. Their carcasses one With those of their humans that once Lived in this place. They can’t change places Even for a while They cannot sit and weep and weep and weep Where mothers are slain and children are left to die.
He looks at him, his son-in-law Blinking, not recognizing him It has been over half a year Since this son was last here Half a lifetime in his existence Scrambled by dementia. Aasiya The daughter he’s barely spoken to Given in marriage at 22 He now remembers crystal clear As she sits with him, ministering Talking to him now without fear Ungrudgingly for all the years She was not enough. Arif Her husband with the business The opinions and the maleness Was the apple of her father’s eyes But now all he sees in the clouds of time Is this angel with her beautiful smile As she soothes him, and she feeds him Her gentle touch calming the storms Of confusion and disquietude That rage through him so often now All he sees, all he has eyes for Is his daughter, his beloved Aasiya.
I had a dream last night You were in it Fuzzy, unclear But the hook was there That had plucked you from somewhere Inside my head or maybe From some deserted place in my heart It wasn’t an act Of which I was aware I had no say In the furtive way You appeared around me again Even if you were phantasmic, chimerical In that time, you were real A swaying, decaying bridge coupling The physical and the figmental
It left a bitter aftertaste In my mouth when I awoke I brushed my teeth With renewed vitality (My dentist would be happy at least) I spent the day going over the locks I had put around certain memories These escapes Even in my dreams Made me restless, agitated me When I was awake Tonight I will have my dose Of vitamins and minerals (They promise all sorts of well-being) So that when I dream The bolted doors inside of me Keep holding their integrity
But even if they lose their might Releasing spectres of the night I know that in my waking hours In dissecting and determining The cryptic whys and wherefores Of night-garish visages Invading, distressing me These dreams, these unbidden images Have already lost their sting They have shed their whipping wings To fly at me when I’m asleep Through all of my monster-proofing And so deep down inside Something tells me that tonight I will dream of other things.
I sought you out, you seek I did Your sort I ardently sought out In movies on my Netflix screen Your type I read in pages typed And bound in pale lilac string Lying deep beneath secret things Amid beloved, unpublished things Your form I conjured in my dreams From lovely, daytime fantasies You lived in my gleaming realm Of poignant impossibilities Your mold I formed in my head Gently the mould spread and spread Amid beautiful, decaying things Covered in gossamery what-ifs In golden morns and velvet nights I looked for you, I sought you out
Until yesterday
When I saw you clear as day You looked through me and then away The likes of me you didn’t like You sought a whole new other sort I was no part of your reality But I looked and looked silently Seek you still, I do sometimes I still urge for your bewitching kind But now doubts riddle that enterprise Few are the days when I look for you Fret-free, with stars in my eyes Those days are still the most sublime But sublimity is not for me Its glittering garb is too profound Peace is now what I seek out Still, old habits of the heart Are damnably hard to put down So keen for you my secret love And seek you still, I do sometimes.
(This piece is about limitations, both physical and mental on women. It is about a woman dealing with the biology of her own body in an environment that has disgraced and stigmatized it.
This piece has also been accepted as part of the 2024 Women Scream anthology, a platform that unites voices for violence against women and is celebrated on international women’s day across a number of countries).
Give me something to sleep Just for a while, a few hours maybe
What’s bothering you? This thing, this ungodly thing I’m sullied, impure again
Impure again? My insides are bleeding anew
Why are you whispering? Because it’s this dirty secret bound to me It keeps violating, assaulting me With such ravening regularity I have to beg my sister to visit (She has that freedom, that liberty) So she can come bearing these Brazen packs of sordid things The stigma! the cruel savagery Of having my womb constantly Bleed and weep and shame and sting
I see the look on my husband’s face When I can’t make his meals In Ramzan, or on eid (I can’t even iron his prayerful shalwar kameez*) I still recall - I cringe and I cry at the memory I couldn’t attend my little one’s very first Ameen* I had taught him his Alif Laam Meem* I couldn’t say I couldn’t tell them to move the day How could I! I hid in the shadows while my mother-in-law Did everything Hugging my child Lavishing him all the while With maternal love, where my love should have been Mine I had put away, hidden, unclean Until I was done with this bane But the occasion has gone like so many others When I was stripped of the soul of a mother That precious moment passed me by Even my father-in-law watched from jaundiced eyes His expression… such disappointment - such contempt The embarrassment! The torment! I wanted to die
The first fast is tomorrow and I bleed again I’m wretched, repulsive, tainted But I’m tired of hiding, melting away In the darkest recesses of the house I’m tired of playing cat and mouse With my dignity, my sense of self I’m tired of becoming invisible For a week every month, ceasing to be A mother, a wife, a human being I’m tired of fading, becoming a wraith I’m tired… I’m tired of this unholy plague
Give me something, something to sleep Give me something to fly me away On the quiet wings of eternal release.
Image: April Mansilla
*Shalwar kameez: tunic and pants worn by men and women across the greater Indian subcontinent.
*Ameen: term used to signify the event/ celebration when a child has finished reading the whole Quran.
*Alif, Laam, Meem: Alphabets that occur in the Quran. In this context, teaching the Quran with all its semantics.
Life goes on wrapped up in days Amd months and years And then something small, inconsequential Peeps out of a grainy abyss It emerges unshrouded, unexpected And the fragility That is also life, folds up The soft blanket about us And we feel the chill Of new news, the icicles Of probabilities, plausibilities Pierce benumbed flesh The fragility of life Touches us with light fingers, it tries But our hearts beat like the delicate wings Of butterflies at the end of spring We feel, we reel we come undone For a while or longer and then The chill settles into our bones Wistful companion for a season That somehow takes root While summer and autumn flit past in their time Winter settles into our boots In the lines of our palms And behind our eyelids like iodex balm Tearing now and then at flesh and veins Amid the dead quietness it brings Of endings, a resting in the dirges it sings Winter becomes our climate within And we toughen our skins With hope, nostalgia and other things And somehow we survive, we go on Wrapped in hours and days and years Until it happens all over again.
I heard it on the news Not the mainstream kind, no Their stories unravel to a sepulchral beat Where the truth lies buried under bones and teeth This was another source I read the caption and my heart Burst again Those men, women and children Were shot, sniped to the floor Because they’d gathered to collect Food, that had been plentiful before Growing in their fields and in their groves Now razed into cavernous holes Bleeding crimson into bare soles Into bare souls Bearing souls of loved ones gone On hearts and shoulders cut and torn Holding on to hope for one more hour Budding gently like a flower Reaching for a little flour For loved ones that still breathed amid The glowing flitter of their dead They reached for hope spattered in red They reached for hope pockmarked with lead They reached for hope among their dead They reached and were shot in their heads
Vermillion petals drift again in the wind Blooming in the ether of Palestine.
Birthed from the soul haunting paintings and videos of Palestinian artists and vloggers.
You want to know If I sleep? I don’t anymore, not normally But when I do When my eyeballs roll back in my head From exhaustion and from dread I dream I’m splayed across Broken stones And clay begotten slivered bricks Shattered bones And severed heads Skin like parchment Bomb-buoyed, paper-thin Every pore missile-singed Flying in the wind Up, up into the sky I send a prayer with my eyes I lift a leg and scrutinise The other one It lies unsprung, unsung, wrung From its muscles and ligaments It lies in the dust The dust is whipped into a storm It brings along The smell of death Of rocket-burnt flesh Bloody, fear-soaked it’s a mesh It clings to me I can hear Each howling soul As it holds me close I let it grip me as it curls Into my ears as they bleed Quietly so silently Tenderly, bedecking me My lobes dripping in rubies There is no sound anymore My wings unfurl I float away As they gently gently weep The tired lifeblood out of me.
Mahvash Mohtadullah 