Hope Deserted by War

Yemeni mp

Ahmed Saif Hashed

Amal is a girl just shy of eighteen. She is spring and a flower… a beautiful dream that passed through here and never left… horses and knights triumph without war or casualties… a kingdom of love, a throne, and a queen… a crown and a sun… rituals of worship and devotion… a blazing passion, longing, and yearning.

Slender as a knight’s spear, yet softer than bamboo… I have always wished to be a vine that slowly climbs her in a journey of eternity, starting from the soles of her feet to reach the sun’s radiance… circling along her form from feet to waist until I reach her neck that calls to you, igniting fires, dispelling a thousand shadows, and illuminating a thousand paths.

I have always longed to kiss her to the point of merging, of perfection, in the depths of love… to pray in her rituals, in vigils, tarawih, and yoga… to circumambulate her neck as a devoted pilgrim in her realms until I reel in awe and wonder… to kiss her lips and travel in her soul to distant horizons… nothing is sweeter than being intoxicated by love until it lifts your spirit to the highest heavens!

Amal is a youthful Himyarite girl from Yemen… her beauty neither fades nor perishes… no matter how much beauty flourishes elsewhere, it remains incomplete without her… elegance is never fulfilled, no matter how extravagant, without the overflow of her enchantment… her grace captivates in a single glance… her waist a constant orbit, unyielding and eternal… your life, no matter how long, remains vibrant with the unaging, inexhaustible vigor of youth.

Her olive-toned skin is light with clarity, radiance, and allure… she enters the heart like a raincloud… her hair, dark and glossy, a net one wishes to be caught in… her scent drifts like perfume along the valleys… in daylight, her braids exude the fragrance of rain and earth… if the night were like her hair, I would be its first dweller; if darkness were like her tresses, it would have been worshiped long ago.

* * *

Every day, you discover a secret in her soul that astonishes you, a beauty that grows each day, revealing what was absent or unknown to you… your absence feels boundless, your ignorance without end… you confess how young and naive you are in love, even if you grow old and gain wisdom… her spirit is transparent, magnetic… possessed by the revolution of a woman in which one melts like molten gold.

I was consumed by the sight of her whenever I could… I would gaze deeply and gather all I could to store in my heart and memory… I drew from her sustenance for my imagination, which never fades, dims, or extinguishes… it grants the soul ecstasy, renewal, and life… I savored the nectar stored in the garden of my imagination until I reeled and sank into the depths, casting off the heavy burdens from my shoulders… I sought to reclaim what had passed, what became impossible, or what was difficult to attain.

I would wander in her, utterly infatuated, coming from afar just to see her, while my longing writhed and struggled within my ribs, and my desire raced ahead of my bewildered breaths… My steps defied their usual rhythm… my feet outran their own direction, overcoming countless obstacles… I wrote to her the longing and passion I carried in my soul… “I love you…” and poured out what burned within my transparent spirit.

After much restraint and a thousand attempts, I brought her to my home, yet I had grown in self-control and subdued my desire, elevating my regard for her with the chastity of a prophet… I did not fall into the forbidden… we had a story that remained unfinished, and despite the earth slipping beneath our feet, and my steps walking on treacherous ground, I did not falter, nor did I plunge into the abyss of collapse.

* * *

A year or less before the events of January, I visited my friends’ estate in “Crater”… I heard running and commotion nearby! I saw her rushing after small children… she glided like a dewy dream… fluttered like a sea breeze that revived my soul, seeking hope amidst the gloom of despair soaked in failure… I felt as though fate had finally smiled upon me, its face brightening and smiling at me… a moment seemed to knock at the door of hope… a birth that would dispel my disappointment… a new love that would compensate for what had passed.

Whenever fate snatched my chance, or circumstances presented themselves, I visited my friends’ estate for her… for her, I prayed without them, asking no forgiveness… I searched for a girl I loved… to inhabit the innermost chambers of her heart… I concealed my longing within, restrained my desire, so as not to shatter confession or the unknown… my feet weighed down with tender modesty, so as not to spoil a love story still in its beginning.

I longed to see her again… my quests ended in disappointments that grew and widened… my eyes petrified here and froze there upon the walls and halls of the place… I was ashamed of myself and the long wait… I felt as if the place wished to consume me, and the sky, wide as it was, constrained me, burdened by my lingering… I cursed my failures and my fate… and after certain despair, on my way to leave, I was rescued from my hopelessness by chance, by her radiant presence… “a coincidence, oh how sweet are coincidences.”

I left the “estate” with the sun trailing its skirts toward the horizon, while she shone upon the wall near my path… My heart almost leapt from its place in a sudden, breathtaking shock… Her face, harmoniously elongated, radiated a striking handsomeness and an intense allure… a testament to beauty and charm, undeniable proof that the universe has a masterful and exquisite Creator.

A wave of bewilderment overtook me… astonishment gripped me at first sight… I paused for a moment… stunned into immobility, my eyes fixed on her… I absorbed everything around me… I wanted my stance to catch her attention, to stand out among all who had passed before her… and I succeeded in capturing her gaze just as I intended.

Her eyes regarded me with astonishment of their own… I was, in that moment, a marvel upon a marvel!! Perhaps she had never encountered the like… a suppressed laugh struggled against its chains… her heaving chest carried it, coiled until it spilled into view… a shy, restrained smile appeared upon her lips.

I urged my feet to resume walking, yet stillness held her… I stumbled, almost falling, while invisible cords from her hands seemed to pull me toward her… I felt captive, my steps obedient to her invisible grasp… I moved slowly, as if my legs were sinking into wet clay… I turned toward her, as if my head were hostage to her enchantment… I entrusted to her my loving heart, consumed and enamored with her.

* * *

A feeling stirred within me, as though some encouragement from her beckoned me to dive deeper… I felt that chance had revived me from despair that had spread through my being… despair nearly claimed me… I wiped from my weary face the gloom and fatigue, the remnants of tedium and melancholy… “Amal” banished the constriction, the tightness, and the darkness from within me.

The next day, at the same hour, I passed by again, filled with longing, nostalgia, and hope… and on the same wall, astonishment appeared once more… her presence pulsed with enchantment… my soul whispered: “My God… I have found my heart’s desire… Amal grows, a more beautiful fate, a love promising even more… a promise that dawns before the sunset.”

Questions of return assailed me: Is intuition the guide, or is it a love preordained to be fulfilled? Who told her I would come back?! Was she waiting for me at this time without prior promise?! Or was it a message sent by the universe to both of us, or a feeling that sensed the kindling longing between us and set our meeting? Or was it a transparent rendezvous called by our two yearning souls, a meeting drawing near?

My feeling foretold a love story in the making… beginning and growing into a greater love… moments flooding me with a torrent of happiness… what is to come promises more… a year brimming with love and joy… I rushed toward her with hurried steps, each step chasing the other… I began to run while she watched me with wonder, and I overcame my shyness, telling myself: I must not be embarrassed this time… I will not waste another chance.

I had squandered opportunities before, and regret had bitten me… chances passed that would not return… I had been burned by the fire of remorse… this time I would not heed my shyness… I must not let it vanish in vain… fate compensates me for what was lost… my life has passed, and I had let chances slip through hesitation… I shook off my shyness and ran like a madman, heedless, toward the fate awaiting me.

I appeared to her as though I were a falcon swooping upon its prey, or a Spanish bull freed from its pen to challenge a matador… She was seized with panic and terror… my terrified heart jerked foolishly… she recoiled in fear… I returned carrying my head pierced by disappointment, my back broken by defeat… I cursed myself and my outrageous folly… I cursed my foolish haste.

* * *

On the third day, our fated meeting arrived… she was on the wall waiting for me to understand… the beats of my heart resonated with longing, and the birds within it chirped in joy… I tried to calm my fear and balance myself as best I could, and in my hand I held a slip of paper on which I had written “I love you”… I folded it like a pin, and as I drew near, I leaned slightly toward her and tossed the paper over the wall.

She withdrew, searching for the unhurried token of love… then vanished, never to return immediately… while my questioning mind sought a reply!! Did I not please her?! My questions grew insistent, tapping at my head like a woodpecker… I saw the wall heavy with absence, sorrow weighing upon it… my fixed eyes wept upon it, and I mourned myself, asking: is the wall a wailing barrier? Confusion possessed me from head to toe.

I was perplexed by her conduct… absence and mystery raising questions with no answer… I tried to console myself and reason that perhaps it was shyness and modesty… astonishment and awe needing time to be absorbed… a moment’s patience would allow acceptance… a pause to reflect… haste is the folly of fools, and one-sided love brings orphanhood, obsession, and torment.

A day more, and we would see things with clarity… a space of hope untainted by yearning… we awaited our fourth fated meeting, as always… her presence, before mine, left no room for misinterpretation… yet curiosity lingered, questions unasked, details yet to be discovered.

I began signaling to her with my hand, insisting… urging her to come out… she emerged with her younger brother as guardian… the guardian restrained our confessions and encounters… yet what remained were exchanged glances, and shy smiles burning with familiarity and desire.

* * *

After the fear and unease had vanished, she stepped out alone, gliding with her wings like a nymph… swaying with the breaths of the sea… a gaze pulsating with lover’s longing… the air around her perfumed with her presence, and in her bosom a yearning coiled, eager for the beloved it sought, like a horse’s neck searching for its rider.

I walked beside her on the path, wrapped in deep shyness… I did not look at her so that no eyes would notice us… I spoke to her with a trembling, shy voice… with anxious, fluttering breaths… I introduced myself, confessing the longing and passion that consumed me… I am a man who does not indulge in love… yet my love for you has reached the point of tyranny over my being.

Other words flowed, noble and chivalrous… intentions pure… reassurance abundant… a conscience unsullied by the corruption of the world… radiating truth and clarity… I feared for her, I cared for her… I tried to build a greater reserve of trust… and as time was precious, racing against itself, and she urged me with firm insistence, I shyly asked her to step out a second time into a safe place, where we could speak of love freely and with care.

We set the hour and the place… a semi-open café on a public street… light meals, juices, and tea for a lover pursuing his dream… she arrived the next day, delayed… emerging with the grace of a bride… my heart and longing led me, enchanted, to a side street, then to a narrower alley… we spoke in small confessions, with abundant fear and anxiety.

Her father was strict, restrictions always close at hand, guards like shadows, excuses few… both of us had limited means… most of our appointments dissolved without a meeting… failure struck more than us, longing sanctified our hearts, disappointment pursued us fiercely, and escaping her watch was a miracle not to be forgotten.

Appointments wore out, some needing multiple attempts to secure a meeting… failures multiplied… meetings were frustrated by prohibition, restriction, or sudden events… love intensified, desire flared, obstacles beset us… we separated and wandered until the wall reunited us, and we began anew.

Love defies… we risk in love with modesty and fleeting encounters, while storms rage within us, desire ignites like volcanoes, shame restrains us, and our merging is thwarted… a fleeting meeting is never enough… I want to confess until I am intoxicated, or bleed my confession and certainty.

“The Buffet of Love”—I still remember it in this barren era, saturated with death… appointments and meetings there, followed by departures to destinations unknown!! Among its frequent visitors were a distinguished poet and a famous broadcaster.

When the events of January 13, 1986, erupted, I found myself close to the love I had been seeking… How magnificent it is to find oneself in the midst of war, beside the beloved you seek, and who seeks you in return… I turned my back to the barricades and the battle, and faced the lover, whose heart pulsed with love and peace.

Love in war is profound… a sanctuary of tranquility, certainty, and calm; yet our commander’s orders came sternly, directing us to move to another location… I obeyed, a lump in my throat chewing my disappointments… I entrusted my heart to my beloved, and did not slip into the spilling of blood.

After the events, I visited the “Buffet of Love”… I found its doors closed… her face marked by bullets, suffering abandonment… she looked like a ruin where owls hoot… love there had been scorched and desolate… no promise, no meeting, no waiting for the beloved.

And after the span of hope, she departed into the unknown… she married a young Yemeni abroad, cloaked in the pretense of goodness… my rose withered, my flowers dried, blood was shed multiple times, and the homeland was defeated—and remains defeated to this day.

My soul was torn, my dreams scattered… poetry died, and the poet vanished from his beloved… he departed alone, stricken by a terminal ailment, with no one to help him… calamity struck his beloved, whose brother was executed, and another imprisoned… as for my hope—it vanished and never returned.

* * *