The Abduction is drawn from events in Maram Al-Masri’s life. When, as a young Arab woman living in France, she decided to separate from her husband with whom she had a child, the father kidnapped the baby and returned to Syria. The Abduction is the story of a woman denied the basic right to raise her child. Thirteen years passed before Al-Masri saw her son again. The poems become the vessel for her dialogue with her missing child, and with her sorrow — and reflect on intimacy, a mother’s rights, war, exile, and freedom. Al-Masri composed the poems in both French and Arabic.
Also included in The Abduction is The Bread of Letters, comprised of two poems addressing the act of writing: “The act of writing / isn’t it a scandalous act in itself? / To write / is learning to know our / most innermost thoughts / Yes I am scandalous / because I show my truth and my nakedness of woman / Yes I am scandalous / because I scream my sorrow and my hope / my desire, my hunger and my thirst.”
/ / / / /
I promise you, Mother
I promise you, Mother
all is well
Let your body rest as much as possible
sleep gently
and don’t let nightmares disturb your peace
Tonight, you needn’t
free your soul
to roam about the house
Your little children have grown
the eldest boy married just after you left us
you know his wife, who was my friend
Now they have two children
He gave the first-born his father’s name
You can be proud of the second,
whose absence made you weep with worry
because he married too
You don’t know his wife
but you would love her
He has a child to whom he gave his father’s name
As for the third, so spoiled,
it’s true he doesn’t work but don’t worry
one day he will
and don’t be surprised if one day he gets married
perhaps he’ll give his first-born
his father’s name
I don’t know if you know
that my sister and I
both also married
Me, I’m divorced
Don’t panic
it’s not so bad
except if you’d been there
my child wouldn’t have been taken from me
But no need to be sad
as you are far from pain and time
I saw your friend yesterday
my God, how she’s changed!
She’s grown old and is losing her teeth
You, young woman
you will remain like the day you closed your eyes
You may have done well
so you won’t see
even if I tell you otherwise
that my father remarried
and that we are truly orphans without you
* * * * *
Remember
Remember
that little boy
who lived with his parents near us?
Remember
when his mom would leave him with us
while she went shopping?
I’d bring you together
to play and babble
Remember
how quiet and well-behaved he was?
He wouldn’t complain
or get annoyed when you took his toys
or leaned on him to stand
His name was Salim
his mother, Josephine, a resigned woman
had tasted bitterness, like me
When I learned that his father
had kidnapped him
and sent him away to his grandmother’s
I wept for Salim
In that moment I didn’t know
I was shedding my first tears
for you
/ / / / /
26
Je t’assure, Mère
que tout va bien
pour que ton corps repose autant qu’il le peut
dors doucement
et ne laisse pas les cauchemars perturber ton repos
ce n’est pas la peine ce soir
de libérer ton âme
pour qu’elle fasse le tour de la maison
tes petits enfants ont grandi
l’aîné s’est marié juste après ton départ
tu connais son épouse qui était mon amie
ils ont maintenant deux enfants
il a donné au premier le prénom de son père
le deuxième dont l’absence t’a fait pleurer d’inquiétude
tu peux être fière de lui
car il s’est marié lui aussi
tu ne connais pas son épouse, si tu la connaissais tu
l’aimerais
il a un enfant à qui il a donné le prénom de son père
quant au troisième, si gâté
c’est vrai qu’il ne travaille pas, mais ne t’inquiète pas
un jour il le fera
et ne sois pas étonnée si un jour il se marie
peut-être qu’il donnera à son premier enfant
le prénom de son père
je ne sais pas si tu sais
que ma soeur et moi
nous nous sommes mariées nous aussi
moi, j’ai divorcé
ne t’affole pas
ce n’est pas si grave
sauf que si tu avais été là
on ne m’aurait pas pris mon enfant
mais ce n’est pas la peine de s’attrister
te voilà là-bas loin du temps et de la douleur
j’ai vu ton amie hier
mon Dieu, comme elle a changé !
elle a vieilli et a commencé à perdre ses dents
toi la jeune femme
tu resteras comme au jour où tu as fermé les yeux
tu as peut-être bien fait
comme ça tu ne verras pas, même si je t’affirme le
contraire
que mon père s’est marié lui aussi
et que nous sommes vraiment des orphelins sans toi
* * * * *
22
Tu te rappelles
ce petit garçon
qui vivait avec ses parents près de chez nous ?
tu te rappelles
quand sa maman nous le confiait
pour faire ses courses ?
alors, je vous mettais ensemble
à jouer et babiller
tu te rappelles
comme il était calme et sage ?
il ne protestait même pas
ni ne s’énervait quand tu prenais ses jouets
ou quand tu t’appuyais sur lui pour te mettre debout
il s’appelait Salim
sa maman, Joséphine, une femme résignée
elle a goûté comme moi l’amertume
quand j’ai su que son père
l’avait kidnappé
le jetant au loin chez la grand-mère
j’ai pleuré pour lui
je ne savais pas à ce moment-là
que je versais mes premières larmes
sur toi
/ / / / /
These poems by Maram Al-Masri, translated by Hélène Cardona, are included in The Abduction, published by White Pine Press (April, 2023). To acquire a copy via the press, click here.