Kay Hassan
Darker than the dead of the night
Onyx like - the stone of the height.
Silhouetted against the summer light
shoulder to shoulder, raced the wind
And in the memories of the highlanders,
No one had seen braver than her
As thunders are to clouds
-Black and her holy knight,
Were to the darkness of the height .
Despite the cracks of those cruel demons
Who acted akin to the tail wagging the dog
Black was forever on the move,
Came and went with the brightest moon
And rived the light like a divine harpoon
***
Stately, someday, Black’s lord,
Died with A LITTLE VERBAL Will:
‘ Wake on my grave for three nights, boys.’
Fatima , the maid who cared for Black.,
Was to her a twin to twin,
Startled in the middle of her dream,
When the smokes of the watch-fire
stretched away like a steady scream
Fatima was woken up , and ran out
Dazzled though by a siren like shout.,
Cried in her native language ;
ANFALA’EST , ANFAL*…
***
Fatima knew the word in a religion must
Is a metaphor for every kind of rape.
‘Alas,’ gasped she and shouted..
‘ Black…Black …Black,
My dearest sister, Black .”
***
Fatima the damsel of the old house,
climbed the hill of the Gottesacker,
Where through the villagers fled,
And the Height’s fighters - in dread ,
Had given the ground very early ,
Escaped the battle. (Eagle like surely.)
***
Fatima knew none of her lord’s boys
Would be giving up his joys
And waking on his father’s shrine
But for her duties ,(Fatima) was certain
Black would …
Without dropping to her a line ….
***
She hugged her in a great fear,
“ Sister,“ yelled she. “Lets run, dear .”
Black nodded with tearing eyes,
Through a bunch of whinnies and neighs
Though she did not speak horses’ language,
In what her sister had just uttered,
Fatima perceived , the horse’s courage
Was the ultimate honor of the black steed
“Regret me not if I forced you to decline ‘
‘Flee you won’t make a good concubine,’
“ Black !” Fatima too, cried .
” For God‘s sake, sister, flee.”
***
Black forgot how to neigh,
Denying , to be an easy prey
Plied her vocal cords to play
A big melody for her last day
“ Oh beautiful daughters of Highland,
Remember my gallops, and sleight of hand
Softness, agility and wind like beauty
And all things of my foremost - duty .’
I won’t flee this battlefield , girls ,
Even if was not through my entire course,
A descendant of any great horse.”
***
We left our lands for the devils,
Who flattened houses, men and fields
To sing “We are storms we are lions.’
And then, the time passed so slowly,
That the snow covered the whole heights,
Before even hit the first winter’s nights
But, nevertheless, no one since the day,.
Saw Fatima sewing behind the window
Or Black galloping in the meadow.
*****
***
*.
( Anfal : The Act of Looting and Killing Which is Legitimately practiced by Muslims. )
Black, absolutely, truly , really- indeed was one of our horses, died fifty years ago.
