When will those doors open, and when will we wash away our sins on the banks of that river—amidst every hammer blow and heresy, every silent mouth and every mouth that stirs up commotion—between the tongues of the speakers, the ears of the oppressed, and the insights of the supporters? neither are they those who equated those sticks, nor those who spared them a piece of coal so they might burn...

Between every hammer and heresy lie years of promises that their south turns away from and their hearts wither away; they used to harvest souls in order to live, and now they are scattered far and wide, with a few years separating one’s neck from one’s thigh, and that sealed mouth, caught between the hammer of tradition and the heresy of flirtation—one womb bearing, another responding—so they multiplied their offspring to the rhythm of their drumming skins and the oaks of their fading consciences, And that sealed mouth remains, wearing itself out and devouring itself; no sooner does it dry up than its dreams grow, giving birth to new hope. ("O my son, rise and revive what your father slaughtered with his hammer, for I have seen in that glory nothing but abandonment and defeat.")

That hope was born, and a new dream arrived, so all their hammers were shattered and replaced with rulings and laws—to become a barbecue fueled by the tears of noble, virtuous women, and its ashes the cigarette butts of wandering mules. Their paralysis gathered, and they drew the image of a virgin who had conceived without seed; they interrogated her with several witnesses from her household, and they testified. Then she gasped in shock and said, "I am your mother, I am your sister, I am your daughter, I am your honor—damn your manhood," Then one of them recalled the poem "Jerusalem, Bride of Your Arabness," etc.

To every woman who has suffered from men’s war against her and their assault on her eternal dignity: Do not fear, and do not grieve, for God is with you.

Writer / Human Development Consultant