The jihad of English people
is to bear the blankness of grey days
to wade through a million petty gripes
without sinking into sourness
The jihad of mothers is trudging forwards
while a four-year-old tugs their hand backwards
to block out the screeching and the ingratitude
kicks, scratches and cusses and
still see a glow of hope around their kids
The jihad of postal workers is
going unnoticed except when they are absent
to remember how essential they are even when never thanked
The jihad of café workers in train stations
is to still feel life is new after making their
thousandth cappuccino
The jihad of company CEOS is
to tread water in crest and crash and
take the blame when blame is due
instead of laying off worker bees in swarms
while they escape in a waxed Mercedes
The jihad of wives is to cycle through dozens of functions
– counseller, ironer, reminder of socks’ destiny
in laundry baskets, confidante, financial adviser, alarm clock for
important events, shoulder masseuse, head chef
without a wage, not to mention their jihad as mothers
and company CEOS or postal workers too –
while staying centred amid the spin
The jihad of husbands is to notice that cycle and compliment them on it
and not be bewildered when their uncomplimented wives bawl
The jihad of doctors is to keep their hearts unglazed
even when administering their umpteen death sentence
because the next they hear might be their own
The jihad of ease is to stay unmuffled
rejoin the whole instead of hiding behind alarmed gates
caressed by blandishments and easy fixes
The jihad of separation is to bear the body’s longing for closeness
without anaesthetising its need or punishing it for its desire
It is all an uphill walk through muddy fields
with the four-year-old of your ego
tugging backwards on your hand
whining for ice-cream or a carry
a jihad that has no killer dimensions
only weariness
and loneliness
and fear that it is all in vain
We patriots of the human nation
wake each day as untagged soldiers
every tiny struggle borne in noble, ordinary causes
an unreported chance for us to be
a hero.
Beautiful mashallah : 🙂
I especially love the last lines
“We patriots of the human nation
wake each day as untagged soldiers
every tiny struggle borne in noble, ordinary causes
an unreported chance for us to be
a hero.”
Exactly.
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