Muharram

Poetry by | August 22, 2022

I want to

be a poet,

so I can

casually say how

I feel

like putting on my hijab

but putting on my hijab

takes effort

like the pins that need

to be placed

in the right creases

on both sides

just below my temples

sometimes on the crown

of my head

or just beside my ears—

when I am

distracted

because you

came to mind

like a sharp

longing.

I want to be

a poet,

so I can

spontaneously

gush out

my ideas,

my feelings

on Saturdays when

most are idle

and I am idle

because I just finished

meditating on my Subh

seven more times

than usual,

fiddling

the string of beads

mumbling

in between verses

desperately asking

the Almighty to

help me understand

the boundary

between faith and

fate—if there is one.

I want to be a

poet,

so I can steadily—

no longer sporadically

I hope

assert my take

on traditions cloaked in prejudice.

 

_____________

Arifah Macacua Jamil believes in silver linings and As-sabr.

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