Joining Rabia on Eid

For Rabia Van Hattum and her extended family

Next to Karima in the yurt, I like sitting with the women.
A little girl in a white lacy dress twirls,
Offering seeds, placing her white socks in my face.
Islam is two women passing baked goods

And a little girl in a white lacy dress twirling.
My legs under me have sat among women before.
Islam is two women playing hand drums.
Sugared ginger, dry mango, this heart is sweet and burnt.

My legs, stumbling, have walked the White City before.
Have you seen the black rocks lodged in the fissures?
Sugared ginger, dry mango, this land is sweet and burnt.
I never meant to lose God in the crack of the familiar.

Have you seen the black rock lodged in the fissures?
The man in the white head covering will slaughter a sheep.
I never meant to lose God in the cracks of family.
If failure is enough, surely success is more.

That man in the white scarf will sacrifice a sheep.
Please come back and eat with us, I can smell it roasting.
If failure is a starvation, success is a feast.
A child with a somber face reminds me wars are all lost.

Please come eat with us, you’d be most welcome.
I once heard three drummers inside these tent walls.
A child with a somber face belies the need for wars.
“How can we call ourselves civilized?” Naomi asks.

I heard drummers from Egypt inside these tent walls.
When we take off our shoes we can’t run away.
“How can we call ourselves civilized?” the poet asks.
I’m offered a part of myself I forgot.

When we take off our shoes we can’t run away,
Offering seeds, placing her white socked feet in my hands
I’m offered a part of myself I forgot
Next to Karima, sitting with the women in the yurt.