Introduction through Parables: Marwa

1 June 2016

I was named after a well
my sister, too
after holy wells
distant from each other
we are distant from each other
our mother didn’t intend it
war is the frantic wet-nurse
running between us
we are both thirsty
we are all thirsty
there is no divine child
to make our waters holy
our waters heal no affliction
who would supplicate
at our bases, seek our waters
in parables
girls are never divine
only their mothers
but like Abraham
I ask God to show Himself
I ask in the plains
I ask in the desert
He answers me with light
He answers me with metal
tea with an iron flavor
we sell it town to town
migrants in our own wild bush
gunmetal sweat
weapon oil in the life
and luck-lines of my palm
we traverse the land
we move with shadow
we are guided by water
I ask God to show Himself
a prophet quartered birds
and waited for God
yet another was given
a hoopoe that spoke
some have war birds
they, too, look
they, too, make reports
we live in a time
machines have emissaries
but like Abraham
it’s not possible to destroy me
they try by fire and by sand
they try by metal and by verse
still I traverse my land
without a sister
with no family
not even a man
who no longer accepts
a hand on his chest
when frantic
myself, strange women
strange girls traverse
in this parable men and boys
attain godhood
they send war to run
hill to hill
well to well
war runs so fast
she loses a shoe
there is no holy child
war ran with empty arms
an empty shawl
when men and their boys
come to a frenzy
they can’t submit to anything
no thing is a kindness
nothing is a kindness
don’t touch me,
don’t look at me,
with their whole persons
no one supplicates
to frantic gods
their command has no end
it can never become story
it can never become ritual

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