To those who refuse to beg for the mercy of the sword, and still wait, despite the sight of soldiers, for the scream of the newborn, full of hope — Wael
Al-Hasan al-A’sam was a Qarmatian military commander
A boutonnière in the lapel
What are ye birthing now?
A child or a crime?!
Or are ye wailing at the gates of ancient Jerusalem?
The cavalry returned from the east
Came back Al-Hasan al-A’sam and the death raid
In his purple garments,
with a face of a thief,
and the mercenary-sword
Watch his statue in Main Square
Swaying with the winds
Watch, from the crack of the window,
severed-hands of youngmen
raised on swords’ points
leaving their pregnant wives on the back of the horse
Watch the line of blood creeping on the ground
Here he passed. Here
Damaged, under the feet of soldiers,
springs of water
Laid down, on the soil,
the stems of crops
And then we, the hungry of earth, lining up
For he shall bestow the covenant of safety
Engraving the roads, with the name of the victorious king
Preaching Friday sermon, by the power of the victorious king
Ascending on the pulpit, with the same sword that cleaves the guts of pregnant women
Ye are birthing now,
who crawls and no hands would support him,
who walks and cannot raise his eyne to people,
who is abducted into slavery
He may become a slave for the palace’s pedophiles
Throwing him in the war field,
for victory
That is the fate of the defeated
No land and no money
Or home to close a door
Without a collector knocking,
or a soldier who saw the beautiful wife from the other house
Watch thy great first nation
Became remains of corpses of the casualties,
beggars for the mercy of the sword
and the money the invader scatters;
Til crumbles whatever remains of men
and heritage
Watch
Startle ye not of the dose of shame
Watch
Til ye vomit, what remains in thy guts,
of motherhood’s warmth
Soars the market for a couple of days,
then acclimates to the new currency
Aches the rib for a couple of days,
then acclimates to the new whip
Mutes the radio for a couple of days,
then acclimates to the new voice
And waiting am I,
next to thy bed
Sitting … watching – in thy shaking fever –
The scream of the newborn
opening his eyne to the sight of soldiers
Wael AbdAlmageed
Pittsburgh, December 21, 2021
Translating Amal 