Hanifa

In dambatta,
I met her in dambatta
Gaiting leisurely down a street in Sansani,
One of those touched by the fingers of modernity.

Like a ripe carabao mango ready to be plucked,
Her slender figure dangled in my admiring thoughts,
And not even the hijab could conceal her beauty  incorrupt;
Allah must have taken an extra day carving her!

The world halted for a while,
Only the sound of my heart's galloping ride;
It’s hard to believe my eyes,
Lacking all words but hi.

'Hanifa',
She said her name's Hanifa.
Her eyes like the sky,
I worshipped with a smile.

Her beauty played a drum,
And her love danced into my heart as I watched.
Stone turned at her gaze,
Ice frozen in the warm embrace of her smiles, amazed;
Be kind to enliven me when the rain looms
That I may seek covers under a mushroom!

Exchanging our sad stories of love in  few stolen glances,
I knew I could push my luck and take those golden chances.
Fingers locked into fingers and palm kissing palm,
We followed our hearts down the palm trees.

She said as we walked, she’d rid my heart of fear,
That the weight of trust again I could bear.
She promised she'd heal my soul inshallah,
And teach me how to eat Tuwon Shinkafa.
She’d teach me how to recuperate from my pains,
And teach me how to love again.

Feigning a feeling, I protested:
'Do not evoke love in me until once again I'm ready'.
Waving it off with a blush, she defended:
'Truly ready is a notoriously difficult state to achieve'.
Thus, did I concede.

There I stood, sinking neck deep in love's ocean and,
Falling head first in love's quicksand;
Swallowed in her marshy safety,
No more would I need a sanctuary.

But,'I fear loosing you after this compulsory year of service',
I cried.
Then, 'I'll keep looking out the window until I find peace',
She smiled.