26.
the vibrations of the ground had ceased
the cacophony of battle diminished
knelt upon a prayer rug in the corner
she heard the footsteps approach
she refused to look up
only staring at the corner
as someone entered the tent
a moment of pause
then a fury of movement
she still refused to look up
lest what she saw gave indication of who won
regardless of the victor
there would be jubilation and melancholy
for to win her love was to lose her clan
who vowed to resist until death
yet her clan’s victory,
while sustaining the blemished treasure
of her community
(one’s clan is irreplaceable),
their victory would mean the continued denial
and perhaps death of her beloved
the instructions she overheard were clear
“if anyone other than one of our men enter
you and layla are to immediately drink this venom
a moment’s hesitation may be too late
if they will claim their prize,
let it be a corpse
“i must go to plea with my life
for a mercy that doesn’t exist
nothing has meant more to me
than my family
i will hold the thought of you
among my last breath”
instantly tears began to fall from her eyes
as she could feel her mother’s sobs and hands
clenching to her father’s frame
final goodbyes are final
and still break the soul
even when forecast or expected
a moment of silence
and then he pulled away
“do not fail me, my love
let not that depraved beast
lay sight upon her alive”
and then he was gone
most likely forever
her mother kneeled beside her
bringing her own tears to this mat of mourning
clutching her daughter’s hand
she forced within her resisting grasp
the small vial of poison
layla’s tears, while genuine,
also masqueraded the accompanying joy
for she might now be united with majnuun
after so much hardship and after so long
she swore
that vial will never touch her lips
never
she would not deny herself
to her beloved
if she had to bury her clan
let it be with the consoling of majnuun
for he understands what it’s like
to lose one’s clan for love
and being in the presence of his love
would make everything somehow bearable
even the guilt of disobeying her father’s last wish
time became a kaleidoscope unto itself
seconds and minutes inverting upon
their own passage
having the weight of days shade into lifetimes
within the experience of those fleeting moments
each breath, though short, became so long,
so labored
the silence echoed within her mind
until she heard footsteps approach the tent
then he entered again
she immediately knew it was her father
she turned to see his face covered with dust
his clothes stained with blood
his body drooped with the burden of defeat
yet his eyes beheld a glimmer of achievement
immediately her mother dropped her vial
and rushed to him
he caught her in his arms to share
“genius or good fortune
let either take the credit
for me talking the sword that cut down our people
back into its sheath
sparing his claim for the cherished spoil of victory
and allowing what remains of our clan and family
to remain united”
then he burst into tears
to cry with his crying wife
and she began to cry again too
whereas her parents’ tears
became a cascade of joy and appreciation
her tears became a drowning flood of despair
for not only had she lost much of her clan
but now the hope of uniting with her beloved
was denied yet again
yet again
and may never be so close again,
that’s if they ever unite
she stared at the vial
in her hand
* * *
morose became the way
as the next day a mass grave was dug
she stood among the elders, women, children,
and men too wounded to assist the burial
the few remaining able-bodied men tried with care
to lay to rest their dead
more than three-quarters of their men were lost
in battle
including layla’s uncle
white cloths covered most of the deceased
yet when the clan ran out of white fabric
any light colored cloth was deemed acceptable
to shroud the departed
so that their burial not be delayed
as the sand began to be put back upon the bodies
many left, but she remained
feeling as if she was cursed
that she was the reason
two bloody sieges were fought
leaving her clan reduced
to mostly elders, widows, and children
she tried to bury her heart within that grave
but it refused to lay upon the corpses
so broken,
it returned to her despaired bosom
sad for the destruction of her clan
sad for the continuing separation from her beloved
morose became the way
as the months passed like years
and life at the camp began to crumble
life in the desert is hard
and the sudden loss of so many men
left the clan unprepared to fulfill all
the needed tasks
those who could resettle elsewhere left,
sometimes as whole families
those able to marry into better circumstances did so,
moving to live with their husbands
the young and bold sought better fortunes elsewhere
sometimes fleeing in the dark of night
those who remained
did their best to keep the camp going
but it was a battle being lost
a continuing shadow of nawfal’s victory
within the prison of this decay
the dungeon of layla’s captivity lay
confined to the limits of her tent
for majnuun was still on the loose
the camp was left unguarded
due to the scarcity of men
their bodies had to be devoted
to more pressing tasks
as a result
layla’s father became even more paranoid
he feared majnuun might become more emboldened
knowing of the clan’s great loss
and bold insanity
can be so unpredictable
therefore,
layla’s only excursions from isolation
were brief appearances before the eyes
of seeking suitors
the same words and adorations
which brought nawfal’s army to their valley
continued to inspire a curiosity about her
throughout arabia
she became more of an intrigue
wrapped in a mystery of beauty and love
because if two brutal battles were fought
to win her hand
she must be a woman superb
and add to that eloquence of majnuun’s verses
painting her in images of delight
both war and poetry
could not tell the same lies
one or both had to be true
and so they came
suitors wealthy and royal
affluent with gifts and embellishments
attempts to charm the maiden’s father
to win her matrimonial escape
from the protective captivity enclosing her
but the warden kept a hard grasp upon the lock
although he appeared to be open to persuasion
the script of his replies followed the same line
“surely your gifts seem as impressive
as the qualities of your character and chivalry
yet look how my daughter remains stolid and aloof
perhaps she has not yet awakened
to the season of matrimonial companionship”
and layla would just stand there
her head held low
staring at the sand
“after all she has endured
i will not force her hand
all i can offer you is an invitation to patience
i will only accept your gifts
if you are willing to concede them
knowing you may never win the prize”
by their customs
it would be blasphemous
to withdraw a suitor’s gifts once offered
except for a most extreme cause
and because of the guilt layla’s father felt
the gifts became alms to assuage
the clan’s deepening and inescapable poverty
just like a hungry man’s appetite
even if sated today
the hunger would return just as intense
within a few days
the gifts of suitors proved no lasting solution
the end for the clan
was surely near
* * *
her father knew
the stream of suitors with gifts
would eventually run dry
due to the continued rejection
he also knew
he could not save the clan
yet still he had a duty to save his daughter
and then he appeared
bakht ibn salaam
the near conquest by nawfal
along with the present parade of suitors
stirred his anxieties
he abandoned the reserve of patience
conditions now called for grand action
but with a touch of his noble elegance
he assembled a royal caravan
gifts of the finest quality
piled in mounds upon donkey-drawn carts
and as he departed his town
he tossed coins of gold to the crowds
as if buying their well wishes
for his return with a princess
days later
he set camp upon the crest of the valley
where below layla’s clan lay
two days he spent in seclusion
within his own darkened tent
to be purified by solitude
he emerged like a pilgrim
who had been visited by the cloud of the beloved
the one that often visited the prophet muusaa
(alayhi salaam)
his was face shining
his words born anew in a deeper eloquence
that could draw tears from the eyeless face
of a teardrop
he then approached the old man
with a mass of gifts as offerings
and began to state his case
“oh father of the woman i live to wed
i come not as a majnuun
hiding my affections behind sonnets of romance
swooning her mind may earn me her favor
but only by securing your grace
shall i win her hand
and then her heart
through her father’s blessing
“obviously, the wealth of this world
means little to you
even this extravagant booty
which i add to what i gave before
suffices not to purchase your favor
reveal what will grant me admission
to the table of your kindness
state without censorship or omission
what you would have me do
to earn her betrothal
“delay no more in fulfilling your promise
to consent to the marriage of me and layla
otherwise, i will depart to never return
bestowing my wealth, reputation, and devotion
upon another who would be my wife”
and there she stood
oblivious to his words
to her, his voice was no more
than an unwanted background din
for she was listening to the wind
to see if its quiet gusts
beheld messages from her beloved
the man before her was naught but another suitor
who, in lust or egotistical whim,
was being tricked to leave charity for her clan
or so she thought
until her father pulled her aside
to surprisingly petition for this man
“layla
this man is a shining light
upon the sands of the arabs
whose sovereignty many willingly respect and obey
we should not so easily turn him away
he has a perfect virtue that even precedes
his good reputation
he can protect and provide for you
better than me
better than any of the others
who came in pursuit of your hand
i fear, if we do not consent now
we will lose an irretrievable treasure
the winter of this dismay
has been cut short by spring’s first blossom
although i would prefer
to keep you in my company
the time has come for me to turn you over
to a better union”
she could see the tears hiding
just inside her father’s sullen eyes
the desperation
the lingering brokenness
that refused to dissipate since surviving
two brutal wars
so as to not devastate his soul
already withered to delicacy
by the cruelty of fate
she did not voice her discontent
which became a silent consent
to her father’s will
she knew how her silence
would be received
and her heart revolted against it
but she could not hurt her father
who, with her unvoiced resistance,
was free to pledge her hand to bakht
* * *
the date was set
in a fortnight and two days
the moon would bask in its fullness
oh, how that special day
would abstain from complete darkness
the moon illuminating the sun’s reflected light
from dusk to dawn
when the sun would then arise to emit
its light directly
shining until it set
let the auspiciousness of that day
bless the wedding ceremony
as the golden sphere arose
dawning the reality of that day’s arrival
layla’s heart sunk with the waning pearl
as the shadows of the night dissolved
within the rays of the sun
nothing was left to veil
the undeniable heaviness
weighing upon her whole being
she had to bite the wailing tears
within her perched lips
as fellow maidens adorned her body
with visual treats and a sweet fragrance
what the night of unending prayers hid
she had to now conceal within herself
for brides are not supposed to be sad
especially when being married to a noble
the joyous smiles of her attendants
helped to paint her last hours of maidenhood
the surrounding laughs and gossips
became a ridiculing torture
they only obscured the whispers of the wind
which she hoped might bring a message
from majnuun
perhaps he had heard of the wedding
and was coming with another army
or anything to disrupt the ceremony
a gasping hope
that never came
to save her from this doom
instead
surrounded by her maiden attendants
she was led to the festival tent
as a captive bride of beauty
the sounds of music and guests
only further obscured the whispers of the wind
their repeated roars of amazement
as present after present was opened
this peasant girl was receiving gifts fit for a queen
yet all she wanted was stillness and quiet
to listen to the wind
the flurry of celebration only intensified
as people tossed silver coins into the air
the spinning shimmering spheres
sparkled in the eyes of everyone except layla
she was desperately searching for gaps of silence
striving to hear any whisper from the wind
then the moment finally came
when her father took her hand
to place it in the hand of bakht
what others saw as an immersion
into unending goo