A Refugee Laments
What If?
What if Columbus hadn’t discovered America?
I would be playing hide-and-seek with my daughters.
This afternoon we would gather round a tray with cardamom-scented tea
and pastries
As my brother,
Absolutely certain we expect him,
Taps lightly on the door and asks, “Is anyone home?”
We would laugh repeatedly at the jokes my students told at school,
While incense perfumes the room.
If Columbus had not discovered America,
I wouldn’t keep the windows of my apartment closed,
To prevent fumes of opium from the neighbor lady’s pipe
From polluting it.
If he had not discovered it,
I would enjoy the scent of bread baking every morning
And not be obliged to trek through the woods to Walmart
To buy a loaf of bread and some cheese, after
Asking my young son, “Accompany me? Will you?”
He says: “I’m afraid to walk through the forest.”
So, I trudge there alone.
If Columbus had not discovered America,
I would not take two trains and a bus to reach my university
and return the same way.
I would merely board a minibus
That takes me wherever I want.
If Columbus had not discovered America,
I would have slumbered all night long, lulled by the breathing of my children;
I would not have suffered from the insomnia that afflicts me here.
If he had not discovered it,
I would receive my poetry collection a month after it is published,
Rather than waiting an entire year for three copies to arrive in the mail.
If he had not discovered it,
I wouldn’t have spent three days sheltering from Hurricane Sandy
As it tried to rip the roof off my apartment, using all the energy it collected from the
waves and the wind,
While I held the shingles down with my prayers.
And. . . .
My God, when may I rest?
For twenty years I’ve struggled on many fronts,
But no victory’s in sight, not yet.
…………….
I’ve mourned with the dove,
Dogs have chased me,
I’ve expressed a teardrop
And wrapped myself in poems against fear and cold weather.
I’ve suspended my days from hooks of patience
That surely will collapse.
I’ve soaked in the raindrops of renunciation,
Repeatedly swallowed the cup of betrayal,
And . . .
There’s no time for a warrior to relax!

By Faleeha Hassan
Translated by William M. Hutchins