Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like that of a full moon
bringing light
from the One
who has commanded me
to wear it
to my face

Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like a merry-go-round
rotating with a joyful force
in places near and far
illuminating its power
a reflection of my soul
and inner beauty

Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
the way whirling dervishes move
we're so high
aspiring nearness to Allah Masha'Allah
our act of wearing hijab daily
deserving of much respect
and Insha Allah
The Seventh Heaven

Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like a spinning wheel
many made
in different colors
and in different textures
each brightening the world
and when wearing it
like Khadijah (AS), Fatimah (AS), and Aisha (RA)
attracts attention of the best kind

Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like Big Ben
I'm so high
dignified
a visible ambassador
of Islam
saying no to immodesty
and saying yes to our Majesty

Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like a halo
starting my day with Bismillah
and looking into the mirror
to carefully donn it
I remember
I'm doing this to help men
married and unmarried
from sinning
and to protect myself
from impurity and immoral acts
as
Hijab is my crown
for me a Queen

By: Najwa Kareem

where are women really safe?
how is it that society-collect FAILS
as humanity stumbles yet again.. and again?
our lady-folk are not safe..


Amaya-bai* finds little comfort but in sibilant-twin
as no eye of sun nor ginoo laid eye on this binukot

Olga is the silent-saint; believes in charity at home
yet chaos ensues too easily - she is wronged and just gets.. lost in the system

Zandile fetches precious amanzi in her sun-soaked calabash
her vigilant-sister falls.. roving guerrilla-men from the river's edge

Michelle, la petite belle, survives the daily-grind via low-coin
tubes to Champs-Élysées as assistante-de-pharmacie

Aadita,  from the outset at 15, dons a veil hiding ****** acid-burns
she has some relative-luck to escape sati later on

Amy with downtrod-heart, grabs the tram to downtown family
wearing dark glasses and gloves on rainy-day blues

Emiko graced (yet cursed) with beauty struggles with ancient-practice
despite the ban, silent-suffering lotus-gait in the tiny village

Aisha may be alive but not well from ethnic-marking tragedy
as irugu are outcast from all-too prevalent gishiri-cruelty




might as well take a trip to Vladivostok
or be dumped in a sarcophagus
beneath the Pyramids
safer there







S T - 27 sept 2013 - *freitag

I call you forward to witness thee,
The nightmare, crimson reality,
Red soaked sheets,
A story of once an innocence, now is gone,
Torn away from my flesh,
I ask you this, where is my choice in all of this,
I have had snatched what is mine, robbed, I seek justice but there is no answer.

My cries, cries fall on silent ears,
Through the years, my cries are also now silen-ced,
I have become a story to myself,
When I now tell of my tragedy, I don't cry
Nor do I give that bitter, characteristic laugh,
I look hollow and stare hollow and feel hollow.

… People think that I’m shallow.
I am fine with that,
When has it ever been my choice?
I cry and scream and no- one helps, and passers-by snigger as they go.
...’’She got what she deserved, she had asked for it, what, dressed like that!’’
‘’She should thank her stars, that someone wants her anyway!’’

After all, ‘**** is a kind of... love.’

That’s part of the irony…

I don't feel that loved.      

- Felinely, Aisha.

As humans, we like to think we are humane,

What is humanity?
We like to think we’d be there for our friends; we’d be gentle on our foes,
We’d forgive and also maybe forget; we’d sacrifice and be moral.
When our morality is under question, we’d be loyal and we will live honest lives,
We won’t backstab or ***** about others; we’ll be upright in our opinions,
We’d be righteous and true and withhold composure within the most strenuous times.
We would work for the betterment of society and cosy with strangers,
In Hope that they will be friends.
We’d look for beauty in the world and we’d be happy though strive for more,
We’d live happy human lives and leave behind a legacy for others to aspire from.
We’d be all that we wish we could be, and more.

But how many of us are like that?

Not one. Not one human being.
We lie, we torture, we hate.
We’re not benevolent on our foes, we wish evil upon our friends,
Our morality is outward and forgiveness a rarity.
We plot, we ******, we hate.
We think these things are to be proud of,
We live of speaking evil; it is a need, a drug.
We break. We hurt. We hate.
We blame others for our mistakes; we never take the fall,
We take advantage of those who love us, we run after those who do it us.
We burn nature and wonder why it balances out with human sacrifice,
We live human lives, but wish to outlive our counterparts, looking constantly,
For immortality.
Our legacy is of lies and façade. We are the supreme race and we proudly
Hate, hurt, ****.
    Doesn’t matter, its human nature, we think, we feel it, we just don’t say it.

Felinely-   Aisha.

By dumb luck our toes have kicked the dust from remnants, mysteries of the Ancients.
Sandblasting time has reduced their instructions for miracles down to perplexing sketches,
Littering a roofless sun-baked labyrinth of echoes.

Science in Genesis?  To be brief, just one example:   Turn the pages to
God broke off Adam's rib and created Eve.
Crowded centuries' have defected over this one in utter disbelief, perhaps you as well.

But analyzing the ancient Hebrew hieroglyph, by letter, by word, by connotation:
within a circumferential envelope, an exterior covering, protecting, shelter
to break off one of the involutions of him
the fixed form, configuration, exterior appearance, animal substance
in repetition, or doubled    (thus a spiraling winding)
into the action of shaping, and the other the object of this action.

Did Moses learn about cellular DNA from his Egyptian royalty pharaoh-teachers?
or was this observation divinely bestowed, a vision in the burning bush?
To describe God's breaking and altering part of Adam's spiral blueprint,
Moses tried to steal electric fire for his goat-herding brethren.
Either way, translators scratched their collective heads and wrote "Rib."

Then, so that humanity would not be alone, God created "Eve"
(But btw, her word actually writes out as Aisha )
Which does not translate to universal woman, Moses repeats that several times.
It translates to a companion, auxillary force, the intellectual woman of universal man,  
The Power and the Act in Will.
Now unique among animals to imagine complexities and bring them about.

With this Creative Volition, Adam becomes a shadow of and a companion for God the Creator.
Moses gave this creative ability a feminine aspect, paired with logic's masculine.
(Not only did he describe our very cells, he understood our minds' anima and animus.)

Does this restore faith, or shake it?  
Sweet on the tongue, but how to digest it all?
And what about the snake?
A serpentine looking hieroglyph, one meaning among many is leaving God's Will.
And if one does, life become difficult, hard labor.

So how do translators pack so many meanings which they don't even fully comprehend,
into a smaller language?   pick one, maybe two meanings:
adapt pictorial and symbolical highlights into an Allegory,
populated with Ribs, Apples, and Snakes...discarding the literal.
The organic sphere of activity = a garden
sentient and temporal  =  basic sensual desire
anteriority of time  = morning      
matter in travail  =  a tree.
Feminine Creativity paired with Masculine Logic  =  "she" is a helpmate.

History will have to apologize,
The new patriarchs couldn't accept Woman with such an equal trait,
Interpreting Allegory literally for use in a power struggle,
Blaming "Her" for their own ignorance,
Bestowing only on her the wayward's punishment of difficult labor. (childbirth).
and having already edited out Yahweh's wife.....
(oh, gratefully a different poem.)

I've barely explained   four   words,   but what do I know, this amateur philosopher?  
Fabre D'Olivet said it best:
"language, the ineffable language.
Those whose dull glance, falling upon these pictures, these symbols, these holy allegories,
saw nothing beyond,
were sunk, it is true, in ignorance;
but their ignorance was voluntary.
From the moment that they wished to leave it, they had only to speak."

Life is about taking breaths
But the most important times
Are when it is taken away
And all that haunts a displaced child
Is when their breath was lost then found again
From the moment a 3 minute warning is given
Where does one evacuate to
When already in a shelter
As bombs blast
And shots echoe in the near distance
When the ground shakes in pain
There is no time to think
No time to act as shrapnel came flying
To pierce their skin
And homes collapsed
Walls caved in
Only to harden their resolve
All out of tears
They no longer fall
When they get used to the pain
They recite the martyred like a grocery list
Mum
Dad
Brothers
Sisters
Aunties
Cousins
Uncles 
Friends
But­ the souls of lost ones are trapped in little hearts
Caged in past dreams
Where Fatima still comes to play with Aisha in the courtyard
Even with her head twisted off by the guards
Tariq and Abdul play marbles with charred fingers
Maha clings onto yesterdays that can never be the same
Where her father's farm was ripe 
And days were spent out in the field
A child sees a child does
So they accept they were born to die
And pick up a stone to fight
At least they must try to protect themselves
Even animals reserve that right
It's instinct
Basic defensive nature and survival needs
Yet the world condemns them
Serpents that bare snakes
They are terrorists in the making
As curses cry out from anger and hatred
A crime to be born in the middle east
The gates and borders of surrounding countries
Closed for their emergency
Where the only place to go is through the doors of heaven
Which are wide open
And in this case is it cruel of me to say
Maybe it is a better option
Than to live and die a thousand times over 
Mentally disturbed 
Overwhelmed with distrust
All that will be left are robots
That have nothing to lose
Time that should be spent in school
Is a time that will never come back
And everyday is a chance lost
Scars that will never be overcome
Eyes that have seen too much
These angels don't belong here

Dost thou still want it?
This that beats for you?
This that stutters only for you, in every sense of the word?
But what are words?
I've yet to see prose that taught me rhythm,
Just as I've yet to see love that taught me to love.
By God, I hate the lies that come with love -
I hate the joy that comes with love, when t'has left me -
But then how can I love love?
That Cupid's wings are clipped I swear to know;
Then how to take a poisoned shot from below
Without flinching?
Aye, that glorified hunter,
He is not a lover's friend
And it is not he that crafted this;
It is not he who fights for this;
It is not he who chooses if his wound
Is cauterized by your touch
Or is fatal.
Such an unsteady ***** is the heart,
Always frantic;
Always too quick or else too stagnant
But 'tis our driving force that pulls us back
In more ways than one.
Mine is yours if yours is mine
And he cannot claim the key -
Not if you give it to him to hold.
Because the key is not just in the necklace
You wear to sleep and wear to run,
And wear when seams are left undone;
It is your own that holds the shape to cause the click,
And perhaps, if we lay close enough, you'll hear'th it.