The Room of Memory
(i) la ilaha illallah
i came out of my mother’s womb screeching
furious and i wept
for three days inconsolably
i knew i was now quest-bound
time-sick
an image cradled me
my tongue still moves to the sound of my mother’s beating heart
she incessantly wished for a daughter and i heard it
even before god
i was once closest to her so i shifted forms
the gods were furious
(ii) zikr
in the face of all the fury contained in my little flesh
a tiny half-opened mouth of a sea monster i began my life
with the image of my mother’s
eyes and the sound of the adhan
there is a scent that emanates from the smoke
of sticks from home
i put them on every dresser and look
at myself and i repeat and i recall
until language becomes whole again
(iii) hashr
you speak
and the
walls
of my house come apart
i put the carpet that rivals the glory of the sun
at the centre of our room I put my
grand
mother’s
dresser
in a corner it l i n g e r s like a shadow
i tell you how she died in our balcony
when her grave was redone
there is a lot of oak
i put our books on it and they quarrel
like our long crook-ed noses
i find a replica of the door that once withstood time and its ailments
and we paint it a shade that lies at the centre of green and blue
and then one day through it
like an ailment of time
you step out and i leave it forever open (for you)
(iv) qalb
the gods were furious
chest becomes an empty room
time appears finite until i hear
a faint beating
i cling to my first memory
it is my heart
Dania Siddiq
Dania Siddiq is a poet and an educator. In her free time, she loves to study literature, watch films, browse Modern Indian art, folk miniature paintings and paintings of Christ across various ages, and watch reruns of her favourite fashion shows.
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