North Bend Nadine – 12/27/18

Shoot with Nadine in North Bend, Washington, the other day. Not the snowy Winter photos we were looking for, but I think they turned out great.

Those Four Ghosts

Hovering
Haunting
Above blacktop
Phasing through

Everything

They shift
In and out of being

Hoods representative of shields
And displacing
Blinking
Far reaching

Between two times

Every other second
Pauses
And we can walk
While others stop

Teleporting every
Two moments
Ten feet forward
Talking to each other

Unaware of the stakes
Or that others exist
Almost shrounded
In our own world

We glitch as we walk

Hovering above blacktop
Abnormal presences

Still there in that place
Forever as four ghosts

Ziraleet

What a good Arab boy might do
In Jordan
Is perhaps go to university
Of some prestige

Might decide to join
The army, and excel in it

He might even go so far
As to be introduced into
The special forces

Why the clans speak
Of a good Arab boy
Who will do as he needs
To protect his reputation

Especially when it comes
To the harem of girls
Who are knocking down his
Door to be married to

His parents have warned him
To play by the rules
So when one angelic hijabi
Falls for him

He knows what to do
When they’re caught kissing

Three years after being
Together
Engaged
Symbolic of forever

He leaves her
Suddenly after a mutual
Expression of unapologetic
Love

Just like
A
Good Arab boy
Was taught

Taught to be cold-
Hearted special forces
Lying piece of scum
Who can’t bear to
Stand by
His love

Then the questions
“Was it love?”
“Was it real?”
“Should I not have

Shown him how I feel?”

Almost as if
They
Never happened
He’s gone with the wind

“Hadi, Hadi, Hadi,
If you go,
Where shall I go?
What shall I do?”

But he wasn’t there
To not give a damn,
He had already
Disappeared.

Like a good Arab boy
Should.

Protect his reputation
Special forces trained
To survive, resist,
Evade and escape

That’s all the training
He ever received
In
JSOC

Wasn’t taught to be
A man
By his parents
He was taught to

Be selfish

Kill all of her dreams
Crush the perceived
Infidelity of a gesture
Such as a kiss before

Marriage

Despicable, they might
Think

How awful that two adults
In their early 20’s
Would dare to decide
To share something intimate

Jordan Special
Operations
Command doesn’t
Have a motto

But the Central
Intelligence
Administration
Does

“And you shall know
The truth and the truth
Shall make you free”
And the HRT says

“To Save Lives”

To the emboldened
Arab woman held
Hostage reading this
I declare Servave Vitas

Because

JSOC taught him to leave
And his parents taught him
How to become a ghost
To the girl unknown now

The woman who is a woman
Unlike he who isn’t a man

She who survives
Getting by
And trying to find
Someone who isn’t
Of the same mind
As he

Was

While I can only
Imagine he was somewhere
Off the next day
Already trying to forget

And was successful

She improves herself
Everyday tirelessly,
Beautiful,
But ignored for fear

Of what a good Arab
Boy might get himself into

Bachelor’s of Communications
And full time jobs
And a love of travel
And a love of love

Are apparently nothing
A good Arab boy
Should strive to be
A part of

Who wouldn’t want
A world like that?

A boy who likes guns
And leaves when things
Get
Difficult for him

I can call him a coward
And I’ll call him a coward
For he is for certain a boy
Who doesn’t know himself

Who tirelessly pleases
His family
And all of his
Made up responsibilities

No, a good Arab boy
Loses every battle
Before he appears because
He lets all of his fears
Get the better of
Him

So he better crawl back
Home
On his stomach or back
He’ll limp in through
The back door
Apologizing for existing

Apologizing for being with
A girl while everbody else
Thought he was earnestly
A part of her world

Better tend to the family
He always thinks
Better tend to my job
He never blinks

And then there is her

I watched the aftermath
As she scrubbed his presence
From everything she had
Published

His face disappeared
His name was wiped away
Plausable deniability assumes
No one else knows

But I know though,
The whole affair
Was kept obscured
For his sake

I hereby call you out,
Since

A good Arab boy
Does what he’s told

A good Muslim woman
Dares to make gold
Of herself;
Ziraleet, servare vitas

“Save yourself
Of this child
And continue
Being bold”

Hope

A fringe of dyed emerald
Hair peeks out
From behind your hijab
Shy smile white teeth
Your wrapping a deep ocean blue
With distant glittery suns
Woven in it
Smokey nebulae surround
A grin worth galaxies

Poetry class peer
Advanced Writing workshopper
Award winner

Yet some split ends
Were showing
And I pointed
Them out to you

As I was sat for lunch
And you came to talk
And you appreciated
Me pointing them out

Deep hazel eyes
Powdery makeup
Stopping by
To say “Hi.”
To me

Leaving now
Probably forever
You’re a rocketeer
Blasting off
Departing

So long
My friend

Should I…?

Nah.

Hijabi

Hijabi

Energy drinks and cigarettes
Are the things that
Make your body tick

No matter how bitter
Or bad
Or strange

No matter
Malignant
In your veins

We’ve all got our engines
Different chemicals
We get our fuel from

Nicotine and taurine
Monsters and Malboro
Coursing through quite thoroughly

In pipes of arteries
Spreading through
And gripping tight
Like roots of your tree