Hagar in the Valley

1 Dhu'l-Hijjah 1425 - Poem 1

By Mohja Kahf

Sometimes I think of those days
in the belly of the valley,
the child on my hip, the weight
of the heat on my head, the sun
far above like a hard-hearted city
This is the final ground of faith,
where a woman is left alone
to survive as she can

It is hard to understand the will of God
Hard when the child is hoarse with thirst
and makes noises like a hurt animal
and what has he done to offend God?
Hard when the earth scorches like lava,
the sun circles overhead, and the heat
corrodes the mind like doubt

First I dropped the empty water-skin
Then I dropped the boy; I dropped everything
Running from heat, running from doubt,
I found the two boulders before me
I climbed the black ridges in desperation,
rock digging into the flesh of my thighs

I ran heavily, I ran lightly
I ran with the momentum of running, of ritual
I ran with the rhythm of the cry of the child
behind me, waxing and waning
Today they say seven.
It may as well have been seven
stages of descent to the final questions of faith

I stopped when I sensed the possibility
of change in the valley
I stopped at a catch in the cry of the child
When I found him, his small palms were moist
When I pushed him aside, I found it--

as if something had broken
deep
in the channels of the earth
as if the chest of God,
full of pity,

finally burst,
then to flow forever:
Water springs at Zamzam

Sometimes I think of those days of mine
in the pit of the belly of the valley
I think of the stone of doubt
that burdens the breast,
of hardness and heaviness
and the lightness of water

I have a heart that has been scorched
by the white fire of midday,
by the fire that must be extinguished by water
I have a faith that has withstood the weight of the sky
I have been more alone than any man
I was given water and gave birth to prophets
who emerged from my womb to a world as parched
as the valley of my trial

Sometimes I think of those days
and I want people to remember,
but what will make them remember?
And will they come to the belly of my valley,
when they have a white fire,
when they thirst for this water?

First published in the Pakistani Journal of Women’s Studies

Image: Detail from Hagar in the Wilderness by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot 1835