a teaspoon of honey

المغرب

[An excerpt from a book of poetry i am currently working on:]

 (Etymology of the word maḡrib)

1. The fourth of the five daily prayers performed by Muslims. 

     (as in: the end of the day and the sky is plum-dark 

     and maghreb only lasts till the stars come out

     so pray before the stars come out) 

2. The region of Northwest Africa, including: Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, andwestern Libya. 

     (as in: mint tea is Moroccan but my mother made it hers by adding lime 

      and she made it ours by always brewing a kettle-full 

      and i've never been to Morocco but how different can it be 

      if all of them drink my mother's mint tea?) 

3. From غَرَبَ (ḡaraba, 'to set, to go down'). Literally, 'where the sun sets' 

     (as in: the Islamic empire was one of the greatest until the sun set on it 

     and did you know of the Grand Library of Baghdad? 

     people flocked from everywhere 

     till the sun set and it was burned to the ground 

     but of course, these muslims deserved it 

     after what they did in Alexandria) 

4. The West. 

     (as in: the West will have you believe such tales 

     that in 642 AD we burned down the library of Alexandria 

      though they themselves have called out these lies 

      and of course, it makes no sense 

      that muslims should be so good at torching books 

      when it is our own that have often turned to ash 

      but we will 'go down' in history 

      as the one who have hurt.) 

5. Al-Maghreb. 

     (as in: east of everything that is now called 'the West'. 

      my mother watches the news and her heart breaks every time. 

      but i brew us a cup of mint tea 

      as we wait for the sky to go plum-dark.) 

                                                                 ~~~

[ The birth of this poem was probably when i learnt that, contrary to popular western belief, the grand library of Alexandria had not been burnt down by muslims headed by 'Amr in al Aas, and it was later found to be a lie apparently made up by some nameless sillies. This poem was written with several points in mind, namely an exegesis of the word magreb and how language is rarely privy to the histories that have made it - the word magreb is at once identifiable to every muslim and perhaps many non-muslims a well as one of the five daily prayers, but on further examination, it is so much more. Likewise, there are a lot of stories that goes unnoticed in our daily vernaculars and this is something i find absolutely fascinating.]