A twenty five year old
marries a Muslim
love is a jihad
love jihad
Even love is metamorphosis
into rocks of Syria
and the rocks smash
her in her home
till providential judgement
decrees she is still a student
What happens to love
or to the jihad?
I love my husband
She maintains stoic
the whole world is stoic
only some laugh
some of course weep
For a love wiped off tendrils
the plant withering
into abyss.
