Monday, May 11, 2009

Perfect Strangers - Part Two





To my unborn child
Since I only get one
Life to live
Hope you understand
My love letter
In case you never see
My face

Daddy was a soldier

… … …
… the Lebanese beautiful woman in town marries the Palestinian man, and from day one her mommy and daddy grew into perfect strangers.

… Until the fifth child, she sported golden streak highlights, wore tight jeans and decked the dark eyeliner around her warm chestnut eyes. Her silky white porcelain skin would shine under the sun. He had no worries about that.

One day, out of nowhere it seemed, her children watch her cover her hair with a scarf, and her skin, white as snow, showed no more. Her daughter would say to her, “mommy mommy, it’s too hot, don’t wear that”. In time, her daughter would learn to obey her mother’s discipline when it’s time to memorize from the Qur’an, or go to the masjid, or play with the sheikh’s kids.

… … He was hardly in this picture. While she washed, cleaned, raised the kids and kept pretty for him, his heart and mind and spirit grew elsewhere. Not with her. Not one with her. He joined the Palestinian political party. Later on, he’d sit on weekends at a quiet place to read the news or discuss pressing political issues or explore his words of poetry – sometimes while she was there with him.

He would read and read and read to her all the poetry his heart can bring, all ideas about the world his mind can think. Force it daddy, the little daughter would think in her little mind wise beyond its age.

Daddy, keep going, she’ll like it one day, she’ll get it one day. I’m sure.

He kept his head up, he kept pressing her into his world just in case it’s true that two can become one. Even on his death bed, he kept his head up strong like a king. And for over thirty years, it never became true that two can become one. From dusk to dawn, I hope you understand, Daddy was a soldier.

…. To be continued


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