Pleasing Two Loves

It is not easy to find a woman who understands my love for Allah.

Some are jealous

Some want to come first

Some simply don’t understand the attraction.

Pleasing two loves is no sport for the faint of heart.

Ask Malik how peaceful his household is with his two wives,

or the Sultan with forty-five!

Najat says, if you find a woman willing to engage in a threesome,

marry her quickly.

The Corpse

The city is buzzing this morning.

A corpse was found just outside the gate.

I join the crowd of onlookers as the watchmen examine him.

My heart sinks into my bowels—I know him.

Perhaps he died trying to get in

before the chill east wind took him.

More likely his heart burst from love unrequited.

I don’t go closer.

I fear, for I am complicit in this crime.

I do not need to see the face to know who it is.

It is Allah.

But I’ll end up as cold and stiff as he is

if I say so

aloud

Drunkenness and Wine

When merchants visit Christian lands

They often find it difficult to refuse the wine.

They tell me it is heavenly, soft as a sunset

A warm blanket pulled over the mind

and gladsome to the heart.

I never touch the stuff.

I've been to Christian lands and "no" is the easiest word to utter.

Listen to Najat: Wine isn't hard to refuse

But drunkenness should call upon you 

Daily

What They Say About You

You must know what they say about you

You have lost your mind

You are immoral 

You are a heretic and worthy of death

I don't know if these things are true.

Probably.

But they say these things about me as well, you see

And about everyone who has ever truly found Love.

Najat says, Be easy

It's jealousy that causes them to gossip

Those envious wags

aren't half as mad or wonton or heathen as we are

Not in their wildest dreams

Hard to Get

The morning sky shrieks light and cries, “I am in love with you!”

The rooster answers but I hunker down in my blankets

and try to ignore it.

At midday the sun blazes away screaming, “Come away with me!”

But I seek out the shade

And stuff bread in my ears.

At night the stars sing faintly and sweetly, “Make love to me!”

But I am throwing dice and drinking coffee with my friends

And although I hear them, I pretend that I do not.

In my dreams the Beloved punches me in the face and says,

“Why are you playing hard to get?”

In my dream, Najat says nothing.

The Robber

My love covers me like a coat

He keeps me warm in winter

And shades my skin from the sun

Last year as I was going home late at night

a man put a knife in my ribs

and told me to give him my coat.

I am not an idiot.

I gave it to him straight away.

To tell you the truth, I haven’t missed it.

If anyone should ever demand it,

I would hand over my Love just as fast.

You wouldn’t even have to threaten me.

Although my Beloved is mine

He does not belong to me.

I wish I could give Him away to everyone.

Najat says, If a robber would put my Beloved on like a coat

The only thing he would ever need to steal again

are kisses.

Save Your Feet

A merchant travelled all the way to China and back

And said that he never once saw any sign of Allah.

Yet my neighbor Amahl, who has never once visited our neighboring village,

Can talk your ear off describing God in the most intimate detail.

When I asked him about this, Amahl laughed and said,

“I do not know if Allah is in China. And really, I do not care.

All I know is that there are two of us sharing this house.”

Before Amahl’s wife died last year, there were three.

Najat says, save your feet, for the beloved is not a foreigner.

And do not strain your eyes looking for Allah.

Eyes are not the only organs that see.