7AJA A7SAN / BETTER LIFE

Under the call to prayer’s hush,
you laugh – louder than the minaret’s echo – 
And I remember the first time I saw you 
Curly hair captured under that black hijab, 
and you wrap your scarf with the precision of prayer. 
You teased “safi, hadi qdimeem”, (this is ooold) 
Handing me mint tea, sugar-sticky and warm,
Like the secrets we’ve kept folded between our palms.

We were just best friends then – 
Or that’s what everyone called it – 
But my chest was already yearning 
My chest was already learning 
How to bow towards you five times a day.

Not sin. Not shame. Just the way, 
Your eyes soften when you talk about us 
And how you say maybe – 

We dream out loud now, 
In a small flat away from home,
The stray cats that beg for crumbs at our door.

We are not a tragedy;
We are two women kneading
Our own future,
Where our love is love because we say so.

When my mother calls, you mouth labas 3lik? (everything alright?)
And I grin, hamdoulilah, because I am. (Thank God)
Because we are.
Happy unhidden – like a crescent moon
You notice before anyone else.

We hold hands on the rooftop at dusk;
No lighting strikes.
Only the azan threading into the stars (call to prayer)
While you whisper, “wach kayn chi 7aja a7san mn hada?” (is there a life better than this?)
And I know there isn’t.