Dreams cried, Nightmare laughed. Cup smashed, Wine spilled— Mujeeb Jaihoon’s poetic dissent against the civilian deaths in the Yemen conflict.

One by one, the hoor
Welcomed every soul,
To the world of good
Without a pinch of foul.

She sang to every visitor
The melody of peace,
And showed them wonders
Seen not even once.

And then arrived
A beautiful bride,
With her bosom,
Blood-stained.

The hoor had never seen
A beauty of her like,
The light on her face
Like the icing on the cake.

‘Had the Lord created hoors
Out of clay,
Or was my heavenly mind
Putting a play?’

Zealous of her beauty,
Curious of her blood,
She went closer to the bride
For the clay-ling to confide.

‘Hey the dazzling daughter of Eve,
Wherefrom such beauty weave?

Reveal the tale
Of the ruby on your robe,
How a bride like you
Looted in such pain-rob?’

Replied the bride
With pain and pride:

I hail from the land of Queen Bilqis,
Joy and peace where never cease,
Deserts and mountains plenty,
Wealth and comforts scanty.

My kith and kin-
Of simple folks,
My home was made
Of stone blocks.

That night fortune smiled,
That night misery cried,
That night dreams realized,
That night nightmare razed.

I have heard
Lord has the habit,
Keeping triumphs
And trials apart.

But do the harvest ever
Coincide with hurricane?
Do Spring of joy
With the Winter of pain?

That night a prince came
Seeking my hand,
My folks knew not how
To their rejoice stand.

My dreams were about
To come true,
With love upon love
My heart was to bloom.

Abi and Ummi
Shed tears of delight,
Bright as day
Had become that night.

My young ones at home danced,
And my face with love blushed.

That night I was
The happiest of all,
In Sa’ada I was
The most gleeful girl.

Yet, that very night
Life lost to death.
Dreams cried,
Nightmare laughed.
Rose withered,
Thorns bloomed.
Cup smashed,
Wine spilled.

From the skies
Rained the scourge,
Shrieks were heard
All over the streets.

My folks got buried
Under the stones,
Blood-like river flowed
Beneath the rubble.

Blinding dust,
Deafening sounds,
Schools shattered,
Homes horrified.

We let our father
Become orphaned:
He survived
We suffered.

Even my sister-
Aged one, unspared,
For, she appeared not
On their secure radars.

Giving us neither choice
Nor any chance,
The airborne monster
Ravaged us at once.

The cause for this curse:
Unknown.
The hands behind this plague:
Unseen.

Neither any rockets in our hands,
Nor any guns in our pockets,
Our hearts had mere dreams
And homes had just sweets.

Those Rogue Regimes’ power-greed,
Those arms dealers’ wealth-need,
Those who on the black-gold feed,
Those who sold our faithful creed.

We had nothing
To do with them all,
Our hopes and dreams
Were very small.

I am now past
The hell on earth,
Their sins are now
My pass to bliss.

I am the unwed
Martyr-bride from Yemen,
I seek justice
From the He in the heaven.


June 07 2015 (Ramadan 20 1436). Edit 2024


Notes

Based on a report of the Human Rights Watch, dedicated to the innocent civilians killed by the airstrikes in the Yemen conflict, especially in the Sa’ada province.

Hoor : The escorts of paradise, generally taken to be females

Bilqis : The Queen of Sheba from the times of Prophet Solomon

Abi and Ummi : Mother and Father (Arabic)

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