What’s the worst thing that can happen?
That he leaves you for another, citing irreconcilable differences he
The Quranic recitations on his iPod playlist to ‘hot in the city’.
What’s the worst thing that can happen?
That he stops finding you interesting, the intrigue and awe
Dulled by too much familiarity, by too much predictability
Because he doesn’t value the comfort of knowing, it just doesn’t get him going
To hear the same old same old: he needs excitement to keep him blowing
You passionate kisses and longing gazes…
Or he might notice the changes in your body, as you carry his son
To term and endure the pangs of growing into mother, with all her
Visible marks carved into her skin, the thin white lines bearing witness
To the vines of wisdom and love and transcendent priorities
But all he sees are the scars and marks that he didn’t sign up for,
Limited by his skin deep myopia.
If the worst does happen, then surely you don’t need
To heed his double standard creed or feed his outrageous greed
For a lifetime’s unconditional commitment- indeed
God Himself does not command that you tolerate such an unjust breed
Meanwhile, my sister, don’t dwell in worst case narratives
In the wearing world of constant comparatives and
Free yourself of these destructive thoughts,
That have brought about nothing but worry and warts
And know this:
no man or woman is wronged and it goes un-noted
By the One, the All-Knowing, All-Seeing.
So be free, my sister. Live with hope. Love without fear
Nothing is lost and all is gained where it counts most my dear.
That he leaves you for another, citing irreconcilable differences he
chose to scrutinise and publicise, leaving you ostracised.
Or he secretly takes another, justifying his activity as a reflection of his Increased moral objectivity and spiritual connectivity
Yet his prayers aren’t even a priority and he skips throughThe Quranic recitations on his iPod playlist to ‘hot in the city’.
What’s the worst thing that can happen?
That he stops finding you interesting, the intrigue and awe
Dulled by too much familiarity, by too much predictability
Because he doesn’t value the comfort of knowing, it just doesn’t get him going
To hear the same old same old: he needs excitement to keep him blowing
You passionate kisses and longing gazes…
Or he might notice the changes in your body, as you carry his son
To term and endure the pangs of growing into mother, with all her
Visible marks carved into her skin, the thin white lines bearing witness
To the vines of wisdom and love and transcendent priorities
But all he sees are the scars and marks that he didn’t sign up for,
Limited by his skin deep myopia.
If the worst does happen, then surely you don’t need
To heed his double standard creed or feed his outrageous greed
For a lifetime’s unconditional commitment- indeed
God Himself does not command that you tolerate such an unjust breed
But
Meanwhile, my sister, don’t dwell in worst case narratives
In the wearing world of constant comparatives and
Free yourself of these destructive thoughts,
That have brought about nothing but worry and warts
And know this:
no man or woman is wronged and it goes un-noted
By the One, the All-Knowing, All-Seeing.
So be free, my sister. Live with hope. Love without fear
Nothing is lost and all is gained where it counts most my dear.
