Fate Whose Slave I Never Was

Fate, whose slave I never was*
And henceforth—shall never be
I shall chart my own course, does

An eagle obey another bird’s command
As he flies majestically along his
Own current, or a crab in the golden sand

Bow to other crustaceans as he comes
Onto the shore, or a ram on the crags of
Mountain heights, searching for some

Scraggly piece of grass, or the polar bear
Numbed in frozen Artic waters fighting for
His fish, like them, I am free to choose, to dare

Destiny’s path in my life, and never regret
What I have chosen, and wonder what lies
Ahead, ceaselessly, defying, denying kismet

* MERANI by Nicoloz Baratashvili

BANGLADESH

Your nationhood is young—yet—
Already—it is compromised—
What a toll your republic took—
Three million lives, three million—
Fighting for a shared—Bengali—heritage—
A communal language, culture, literature—
Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Christian—
A secular, democratic, socialist country—
Was formed in nineteen seventy-one—
Your geography encompasses the delta—
Of the sacred river Ganges—
Your geography encounters mammoth floods—
Sometimes taking the lives of over—
One hundred thousand people—
You retain People’s Republic, not Islamic
Freedom of religion, freedom of speech—
A fatwa issued on Taslima Nisreen—
Lajja on you, leaders of Bangladesh—
Women Prime Ministers allow abuse of women—
Journalists Without Borders condemns you—
Never let fundamentalists rule!

March, 2004

Cut Is So Deep

Sometimes the cut is so deep
No woe-in-me tale is enough*
This cut is my December seventh
My nine eleven,
My I can’t-live-without-him tale

Each story has a gory monster
But I never would have pictured him
I never thought he would be the star
My fiend, my ogre
In the my-life-is-so-depressing saga

Lives can change, you can live with anything
If you have what you can’t live without
He taught me how sudden, how profound
My loneliness can be
I-don’t-want-this-to-happen-to-me now

*Love by Toni Morrison

I FOUND HER ON THE BEACH

I found her on the beach
Covered by just a few inches of water
A small scratch on her forehead
It didn’t mar the beauty of her face
Her lovely body lay there
Her hand entwined in that
Of a small child
My fiancé and I had been separated
By the tsunami waves
That came upon the Sri Lankan land
How could it be that in an instant
She is gone, departed
Her beauty is there
But her being is not

I CRAVE YOU IN OTHER MEN'S BODIES

I crave you in other men’s bodies…..sexual
Bodies…..with big dicks attached to lean muscles
……ready to do to me many of the acts you did….
But always a little different….they have their own
Special ways…..I forget you when I’m with them….
But then they leave…..and you remain in my thoughts…..
I can’t get you out of my mind…..my cravings
.......for you come stalkingly back…..
I can’t lose you…..I can’t forget…..
You told me to keep on with my life…..that’s what I’m doing
…..but nothing helps….what’s going to happen to me…..
I guess that depends on what’s happening to you…..
I will go on with this sexual carousel…..
How many men will it take to forget…..fail to remember you…..
Will I have to exist….. to exist……
For it’s really not living…..
From now on….. I don’t know…..can anyone ever know
.............When love becomes unhinged…..

THE AFTERNOON IS URBAN

The afternoon is urban—
The streets are peopled with footsteps
Somewhat luminous—
Shadows are silhouetted on skyscrapers
And our love’s gone wrong – *
The sun’s shimmering sunset
The exodus to the suburbs –
The red bud and azalea are in full bloom—
The bells are chiming
What are we to do—
Sit on an iron bench in Jackson Square
A full moon and Venus appears
Eternity drips away, inch by inch, inside us—*
Tarot card readers beckon
Can they tell us about the stars—
They are born and die just like us
All explorer’s die of a broken heart—*
Is this a saying—it isn’t true
How can we fix our love—
Explore our inner beings
Maybe a clue we’ll find—
Somewhat mysterious
Fading sunlight on the water in the fountain—
Will our love fade away
Like the shadows, like the sun—
The afternoon is urban
Electricity is in the air—
A quickening in our souls
Tankers glide by on the river—
What exotic ports are they bound
Somewhat imaginary—
The river Mississippi
Each second it changes—
And what of our love
Do we want to explore—
A horse and buggy clip-clodding
The sound of a trumpet—
Wafting in the breeze
Music is illusionatory—
Where does love go
When it is over—
Does it fade away
Or is it reborn somewhere else—
The afternoon is urban
The pigeons are feeding at our feet—
The smell of beignets
Beckons us—

*Black Zodiac by Charles Wright

WOEFUL TALE OF EGYPT

‘Tis a woeful tale of Egypt, I tell:
Glorious land of the Pharoahs,
Renowned for its magnificent tombs,
Its unequalled pyramids, its decorative flumes,
A new force is among them, new foes,
In the font of western civilization’s citadel!

This saga is the story of one man:
A professor of Islamic studies at Cairo University,
He had a decade-long dispute*
With Dr. Abdel-Sabour Shahin whose repute,
As an extreme Muslim fundamentalist, no diversity
Allowed, he espoused a strict interpretation of the Koran.

It all commenced in the year nineteen ninety-three:
When reading his paper one morning, he found,
Dr. Nasr Hamed Abu Zeid read that a blasphemy case,
On what, he wanted to know, had the accusation been based,
He was brought to trial, found safe and sound,
Accused of being an apostate, of breaking the law of apostasy!

It began in nineteen ninety-two when his promotion:
His promotion to full professor was denied,
Two academics praised his Koranic research,
But were swayed by a third who like a pulpit was perched,
Vehemently, opposed to everything on Zeid’s side,
This colleague, Shahin, caused quite a commotion!

At this time the newest victim of Islamic militants:
The only Egyptian Nobel Prize winner for literature,
Naguib Mahfouz had been shot in nineteen ninety-four,
While fellow writer Farag Foda was murdered before,
In nineteen ninety-three nearly half a million endured,
Friday prayers where Zeid was declared a heretic at a glance!

At the Giza Primary Court, the trial took place:
This unassuming, private, timid scholar who taught,*
Who had studied the works of Aristotle, Averroes, *
Kant, Marx and Engels but didn’t advocate the overthrows,
Of any government, just one feud he fought,
With Dr. Shanin, who challenged him to his face.

Egypt had no apostasy law so the trial was held under family law:
Having written and published twelve treatises, twelve books,
He was now accused of being blasphemous,
No one could he truly trust,
He was accosted by strange noises and dirty looks
He didn’t understand everything he saw!

Nasr Abu Zeid was being sued for divorce:
Not by his wife, who he had married late in life,
At age forty-nine, a fellow professor, she,
Ebtehal Younes, fifteen years younger than he,
Widely traveled daughter of an Egyptian diplomat, his wife,
Slim, attractive, outspoken feminist, a fiery force.

The case was based on a ninth-century Shariah law called hisbah:*
Any Muslim may sue before a court,
If he believes that Islam is being harmed,
If he is just greatly alarmed,
Poor Zeid was like a ship with no port,
His wife remained loyal to him, he thought with a sigh!

The case was brought by a group of Islamic lawyers acting:
On his wife’s behalf, at first without her knowledge,
And later without her consent,
They were just hell bent,
On punishing Zeid for his writings, his books they pledged
To burn, he to be banished from teaching, have no backing!

Muslim women may not marry outside of their faith:
If blasphemous Zeid’s writings were duly deemed,
His happy marriage would be dissolved,
These Islamic extremist were deeply involved,
In Zeid’s personal life to an extent that it seemed,
They were crucifying him for his professional belief!

Some of the defense attorneys hadn’t heard of hisbah before the trial:
These religious fanatics thought it was their Islamic duty,
To defend Ebtehal against her will,
Devoted disciples of Dr. Shahin, they were instilled,
With zealot passion and fervor, with bizarre prudity,
How could this happen on the banks of the Nile!

Before the trial, sheikhs began at prayers on Friday:
Backed by the power of the distinguished al-Azhar,
The oldest university in the world,
Zeid’s enemies with their slogans unfurled,
Apostate, Repent, repent, they created a war,
These men who had never read his books were fully in the fray.

In January of nineteen ninety-four, Zeid received a reprieve:
In the lower court he was found innocent,
But in Egyptian law, unlike American,
An innocent verdict can be appealed, there is no ban,
The Court of Appeals, what a horrible precedent,
Found him guilty, a guilty verdict did he receive.

He was found guilty of propagating the view:*
That certain Koranic references to angels, devils and genies,
Should not be taken literally
But as metaphors they were meant to be
He challenged the Koran as the word of god, as it he sees
Over him and his case, a cold wind blew!

The court had no jurisfiction to declare anyone an apostate:
No apostasy law did Egypt have at that time,
Zeid had convicted himself, three judges found,
Lost his right to be married to a Muslim woman, he was bound
With his writings that were treated as committing a crime,
He had to abide by the court order to divorce his mate!

The Court of Cassation upheld the verdict of the Court of Appeals:
Although the Constitution enshrined freedom of belief,
There was a difference between belief that was spoken
And belief in the mind, this was a token
That the Constitution wasn’t the law of the land, no relief
Was coming for Abu Zeid, there would be no deals!

A group of Islamic scholars from al-Azhar called on the government:
To carry out the punishment for apostasy,
According to orthodox Shariah law the punishment
Was death, death was the verdict sent,
Zeid with his wife fled to the Netherlands, fleeingly,
To Leiden University, to escape death, they went!


*Portrait of Egypt by Mary Anne Weaver

ABE NOT AN ABECEDARIAN

Hail, day of joy, two-headed Janus begins this new year
Brings me my lascivious lover to provide me with cheer

The only god who is able to see behind himself, is that a good sign
Brings me the one who makes my senses scintillatingly shine

A ring from the telephone leads to a tumultuous assault
His sexual prowess I want to exceedingly exalt

In a ferocious fervor, he thrust his twisted dick upon me
From that moment I was lost in the throngs of ecstasy

Fireworks went off as assail me he did and I clamored for more
No novice, my Abe, he knew all the rudiments, yea, we did explore

Every position, some new, some tried and true, of lusty love-making
Mesmerized, enchanted, captivated, enthralled, I was his for the taking

My lover, primero, on this primary day, a good portent
For the coming year, he will return again, make me content