Birth Ritual
by Dana Alsamsam
Sister聽 聽 聽 you came into the world
silent聽 聽 聽 & expecting
to listen聽 聽 聽 your father鈥檚 voice
whispering into your right ear
these holy words to call you
into a life of worship
His voice
was the first voice I heard
like many daughters
& their fathers
& the recitation
of this ghostsong
Assalatu khairum-minan-naum
Prayer is better than sleep
But you聽 聽 聽 my sister聽 聽 聽 heard only
frantic calls聽 聽 聽 clipped
conversations聽 聽 聽 the echo
of emergency waking you
into a world that won鈥檛 get
any quieter聽 聽 聽 I know our father
does not have any sweetness
left to聽 聽 聽 rub on your gums
He is too tired to teach you
the many steps of cleansing
before prayer as he taught me
his devotion washed away
in the silt聽 聽 聽 & the sand
his prayer only ritual聽 聽 聽 a performance
of memory聽 聽 聽 He kneels
stands聽 聽 聽 no longer feels urgency
Hayya 鈥榓la-s-Salah聽 聽 聽 Hayya 鈥榓la-s-Salah
Hayya 鈥榓la-l-Falah聽 聽 聽 Hayya 鈥榓la-l-Falah
Hurry to the prayer聽 聽 聽 Hurry to the prayer
Hurry to Salvation聽 聽 聽 Hurry to Salvation
Hurry to me sister聽 聽 聽 & I will try
to teach you that soap
is not the same as purity
but sometimes this water is all we have
to scrub the shame passed down
My sister聽 聽 聽 you & I
are both unholy daughters
the same despite our beginnings
Sleep聽 聽 聽 it calls to us
Dark聽 聽 聽 it calls to us
I admit聽 聽 聽 sister聽 聽 聽 I still remember
what the Adhan sounds like
The calm urgency of its calling
across the dawn聽 聽 聽 the night
the day聽 聽 聽 but I have forgotten
to what world
this incantation calls us
I have forgotten its meaning
In Islam, the earliest tradition that we experience in our lives is our father whispering the Adhan, or the call to prayer, into our right ear. This tradition blesses the child and welcomes them into a life of worship and godliness. My youngest sister did not experience this ritual, however, because she was born quickly in the passenger seat of my father鈥檚 car on the way to hospital. Years later, my parents would divorce and I had started my own adult life outside of my parents鈥� house. My little sister and father were essentially alone, and it broke my heart to see my father struggling, and my little sister coming of age in such a different reality. I wanted to protect her from the evils that young women experience in this world. I used the birth ritual to highlight the difference between myself and her, but then collapse that difference throughout the poem. Is there any real difference between us when I had strayed so far from the path my father wished for me anyways? When I had succumbed so many times to a life that was unholy?
is a first generation Syrian-American from Chicago and is currently based in Boston where she works in arts development. A Lambda Literary fellow, she received her MFA in Poetry from Emerson College where she was the editor-in-chief of Redivider and senior editorial assistant at Ploughshares. She is the author of a chapbook, (in)habit (tenderness lit, 2018), and her poems are published or forthcoming in The Massachusetts Review, North American Review, The Shallow Ends, The Offing, Tinderbox, Salamander, BOOTH, The Common, and others.