I sparkled the sky with my tears, engraved them like stars in heaven.
I sealed my soul, thinking time would cleanse my spirit, and cure that haemorrhaging wound.
From the intensity of pain and groans, tapered the seam of my wound
It haemorrhaged with torrents of echoing words like lightning
Resounding with thunder, while my story travels among people like raindrops.
I shall narrate to all the mothers on this earth
The story of my son Ali
As he extended his arm from the dark depths of womb
How he gestured: “stop”
Don’t kill my soul
You who are my world and all my people
May the blessing be upon you
I screamed and shouted:
He will not be aborted, He will live
Have mercy ….
Though plagued with nausea and chocked by vomit,
I will not let you haunt me.
Haven’t they taught you that the silence of women is by no means a measure of weakness?
Aged as I may be
Though you will not see
My child as an ogre or monster
Can you see I will nourish him, I will provide for him
As long as the earth remains fertile
No….. I will not kill the embryo
I will not abort my child
You will not terrorize me, nor shall you haunt me
Even if you renounce me
You will not strip me of my dignity
I shall carry this load
Even if relinquished, abandoned or forsaken
I will not shed a tear.
As I traveled through the hospital’s antiseptic corridors
Comatose and spent, as if resurrected from the netherworld
Scarred by the scalpel, bled and mutilated
I hold in breath …. Until when?
I want to see ….
Is he out????
Like a gift from the almighty
Perfect and radiant like a full moon
I greet the newly born between my arms
I sniff the scent of his breath….
And envision future within his eyes ….
Blessed be thee, my son Ali
قصة علي، قصيدة تتحدث عن مفهوم الإجهاض، ليس بمعناه التقليدي وإنما الأوجه المتعددة له إجهاض جنين، إجهاض شخص، فكرة، معتقد أو وطن.
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