Saturday, March 7, 2009

Time Travel

.





I had to drive far from where I am now.

I got lost, but in a way I knew where I was going.

I had to show myself that I hadn't dreamt it all.

There was a time and a place when I didn't know.

And I went there with my son.

And I showed him where it all started.

"This is where your father and I met."

Did he understand?

Did he know that his life started in that moment?

My life started too that night.

And my old life ended.

Six years since I had been there

With red chalk in my hand.

I had drawn a heart on asphalt.

"What if the winds blow it away?"

That's what his father had asked.

"The winds will carry our love."

Truly, our love was carried away.

Taken from us.

Next, I went for a divorce

lawyer.

She knew me from the first, then the second,

but hadn't needed to know about the third.

Her Egyptian travel plan needed me.

I helped her with hejab.

Told her of Islam and of a country of Muslims

rather than a Muslim country.

"You didn't know any of this before?"

No. I did not.

In some ways, I wish I never did.

We left for the snowy walkway.

Made a man for us to love.

With a carrot for his nose.

Our only man.

I heard "Deelight" play on the radio

and felt the empowerment of womanhood.

I drove and was driven to be strong.

I walked in

where I was once escorted out.

"Did they let you in here?"

No. They did not.

"Did you get money from them?

Yes, I did. I didn't win.

I settled.

That used to be my office.

I used to have a key.

With so many not having a job

I was at peace not to be beholden.

Still in hejab.

I left.

Time for prayer.

Jummah.

My sleepy boy so heavy in my arms.

No one helping me but Allah.

I prayed and heard the words

which I knew would lead to "yosra".

God spoke before and continues to speak

to me.

I left.

We went to a happy household.

A mother, father and baby.

There was our rockinghorse

from the father

I haven't seen in years.

I didn't cry.

But I could have.

A Moroccan husband.

A beautiful life.

May Allah protect them.

I drove.

There was the house

I could have seen.

The children

I could have gone past.

I did not.

Time travel is tough.

It is also productive.

No longer bullied

by pieces of my past,

I am free to clap my hands

and let go of the wheel

as I sing along to the song.

1 comment:

Sally said...

SubhanAllah sis your writing is so beautiful! May Allah SWT bless and protect u! :)
"Sally" :)