Author: OneLastEndeavor PM
A poem about the Muslim women who have to constantly cover themselves head to toe. More interesting than the title or this crappy summary makes it sound. Please RR!Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Angst - Words: 392 - Reviews: 9 - Published: 05-30-06 - id: 2182743
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: (READ THIS FIRST) Well, every review I've received on this piece (save but one) has mentioned how stereotypical or ignorant of Muslims women/Muslim culture the message of this poem is so I finally decided to address this here. You may all be surprised to know that I don't live in a hole or a cave and yes, I do know that not all Muslim women are forced to cover their heads and wear hijabs and such. Shocking, isn't it? I've known a great number of Muslims in my life--one of my close friends comes from a Muslim family--and I do know that they're not forced to do anything. This poem addresses one aspect and one aspect alone of Muslim society: the extremists. Radical Islam dictates many things for women: to cover themselves up from head to toe, to not enter certain areas of a building, etc. So there you go, before you jump on me for being stereotypical. No offense to the reviewers, of course. I highly appreciate your feedback and I must admit, I didn't think this poem seemed stereotypical when I first posted it up here. No without further ado, the poem that has brought on such controversy:
Spring has begun, in ever bloom
Sparkling crystal liquid flows neatly
Down the wet and flowery riverbed.
Green lushness of a forest growth,
A canopy of emerald colored leaves,
Shade the little village of the East.
But inside a lonely concrete house,
Splendor kept forever hidden
From all those who venture to strangers:
Untrustworthy, deceitful and cunning!
For fear that dominance will covet
And innocence cruelly ripped away!
A young woman sits alone
In the washroom, her only solace
Stares at a hidden reflection:
Flowing dark hair and soft eyes,
Smooth, flawless brown skin
And lips shaped by nature's ways.
From across the partition, her man calls
And this beauty takes the cloth
Covers her soul, spirit and shine.
Her head cast down and eyes shut
She views the world through cotton.
A shuffled, broken down walk
Tired hands of a woman's work
Cursed forever to stay in a "home",
That cages the feminine mystique.
Spring has begun, roses in full bloom
Waterfalls of gushing diamond streams
Nature moves on, its beauty lustful
While eyes sadly weep in her room…