Agnes Meadows

Exposure
Al Ahzar University, Gaza

She was a phantom, a raven,
A shadow, silent and skimming
Burka'd so deep even her soul was hidden,
Black cloth covered from head to heel, gloved
Hands like mummified birds, feet trapped
In leather cages keeping pavements and earth at bay,
Not one inch of her revealed, not the smallest
Flicker of flesh free to feel life's firmament.

She slid across the ground, leaving no trace,
Stateless in Gaza, coffined already,
Walking through life in a box, a black box, a shroud,
Heart beat and being's treasured threads concealed,
Arcane messages Morse-coding out of spectral irises.

She glided into the classroom, de-humanised,
Mute and removed, devoid of identity,
Surrounded by youth's questioning tidal wave,
Yet separate, a black shore upon which no wave would ever beat,
In her cerecloth covering, a ghost, a djinn,
Conjured out of midday heat, then vanishing
Between one sentence and the next, gone, dimmed,
Disappearing back into the lamp without so much as a goodbye.

It saddened me that I would never know her name,
Not hear her breathing, know her thoughts, share
Her acknowledgement of pride, victory of laughter,
Softness of pleasure when the sea brakes, when the rain comes,
Discover if she was a woman worth knowing as a friend.

And ultimately I wondered if she pitied me
For my complete
Exposure.

 

From At Damascus Gate on Good Friday. © Agnes Meadows 2005