Joseph
Harker (am I the only one who thinks of him as Jonathan Harker? Thank
you Bram Stoker!) is the pseudonym of a twenty-something student and
poet from the Eastern US. He enjoys walking through open fields at
sunset just after the storm clouds break, but since these situations
don’t come up often, he’s usually writing instead. You can find his
work in places like Qarrtsiluni and a handful of stones, but most directly on his web site.
His poem takes us behind the wall, if you will, of identity and gives
us the voice of a character many people only get to glimpse from behind
her veil.
Zubaidah
By Joseph Harker
When she thinks no one is looking,
she talks to the birds in Arabic,
feeds them scraps of bread and murmured stories
that no one else has the patience to hear,
undoes her veil just enough that
they can see her harvest-moon face,
hear her laugh about the beautiful boys in class,
how she might marry the curly-haired one,
hiss about the professors who see a headscarf
and not the whip-smart girl underneath,
sigh for the voice of her father, the muezzin,
calling the sleepy Nile to prayer,
before she runs out of words and bread
does up her veil and rises from the bench
like a ghost deciding from building to building,
the only hints caught in her eyelashes.
Well said, and needing to be said – and a lovely poem to boot.
the head scarf was a lovely surprise and made me re-read the poems several times. thanks so much!
This poem is exquisite. the lines, the images, the glimpse behind the veil, all told with a light, sure, deft touch of a precise and thoughtful poet. Kudos!
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