A terrorist to love – part 5

A terrorist to love - part 5
10 September 2022
Courtesy Peakpx
After a period of interrogation, the anti-terrorist team released her as they didn’t have anything against her and they could no longer retrieve her to the US as an asset given she was no longer part of the team. They let her go with a sneer and a jeer though and inferred that if they found her with him, they would not hesitate to shoot her down to serve as an example. She merely scoffed and took her belongings before leaving the US embassy in London. She could see that the two who had caught her at the London eye were following her discreetly. They were not so discreet though as to evade her trained eyes. She stuck up her middle finger backwards towards them, showing them she was aware of their presence. She went straight to her flat and decided to sleep for a few hours.

Her phone buzzed for a while before she got up and grabbed it. She had hoped to see Manas but it was someone else who was clad with the same clothing that she had seen Manas wear. He pointed towards a picture next to his face. It was very small and she had a hard time identifying what it was. He then sent her a picture and deleted it after he saw that she had identified it. It was a burner phone and he spoke in Arabic telling her to get something similar. He told her to get the yellow one and she put on her computer and activated the private network application so that nobody could follow her search on the internet if they were hacking her computer. She almost felt like a terrorist herself now that she was trying to avoid the US anti-terrorist unit dedicated to African terrorism that had been hers. He also sent another picture and she quickly took a photograph of it before he could delete it. It was a number in what was now considered as Arabic numerals and she realised it was a UK number to call.

She kept the application on throughout her research and purchased the yellow burner phone. Instead of having it delivered to her, thereby leaving her address, she marked it for collection at the store. She was glad she had got this small payment card that she had used as it could not lead back to her at all and had sufficient money in it to purchase anything else she would need to make her encounters with Manas as safe as possible. Later that afternoon she went and picked up the phone and bought two prepaid sims which she paid with cash rather than the debit card even though it was deemed to keep her untraceable. She walked towards Southwark park and sat on a bench before bringing her phone out. She put in one of the prepaid sims and called the number that Manas’s man had sent her. The phone did not have whatsapp on it and she realized that it would not be possible to put that application on this phone. She heard Manas on the line and her heart skipped a beat.

-	How are you, she said
-	I am fine Angel. How are you?
-	I was so scared for you but I feel better now knowing that you got away.
-	Angel, I need you to do something for me
-	Anything my love
-	Don’t take any tube today that passes by Westminster
-	Why, what is going to happen in Westminster? 

She felt a cold sweat running down her back. Was there going to be a terrorist attack in Westminster? She could not possibly suspect it and do nothing. So many people could die if she did not report it to the authorities. Manas was not answering her question. He appeared hesitant but then said

-	I don’t want you to get hurt. Two opposing factions of Boko Haram are meeting at the station. I really don’t want you to get hurt
-	What about the other innocent bystanders?
-	They risk less. You risk a lot because your face is now known to the two factions. You could be used to bring me down or as a tool to make me lose control at the leadership level of Boko Haram in Nigeria.
-	Understood. I will not go there today
-	Today and the following two days might be better actually.
-	Yes, okay. I will do as you say

She hung up feeling a pit in her stomach. At the same time, her mind was racing. Should she report this to the authorities or not? If she did report it then the two factions might suspect Manas and she did not want to get him killed. Was he telling her the truth? She knew that Boko Haram wanted to reignite its fame and be counted as a force to reckon with outside of its territory and this might mean that they could have wired up the station to take down westerners together with the other faction that called itself the Islamic State West Africa Province (to be known as ISWAP). Boko Haram could easily send only suicide bombers to the meeting with the ISWAP group and then bomb the whole of the Westminster station. This would cause huge disruptions in the life of thousands of westerners and block all logistics around that area for days if not weeks as well as send a stark message to Islamic State abroad. She felt stuck, incapable of making a decision for several minutes. Then all of a sudden she stood up and went back home after throwing the sim card in a dustbin. She knew what to do.

"Desolation" - Adam Hurst

Tomorrow I will bear no weight

Tomorrow I will bear no weight
24 June 2022
Courtesy pinterest.com
Fed with constant realities
their idle waves of intent 
breaking through my fears
I bear fruit to a sullen morrow

I fixate beyond the edge of myself
on the anticipated remembrance
of the snow-white place in me
where I fail to see you no more

Your face grows stark and steady
In a solitary place I keep hidden
between collar bone and chest
bubbling with the residue of unrest

My brain will build tall citadels 
where your name will reiterate
like a broken disk hitting my skull
one dull thud after another drops

There are fleeting looks encircled 
by the morosity of frozen cheeks
They bask in the sunlit shadows
born to the eye that blinks never

Tomorrow I will bear no weight
Like a maiden before her sunset
I will tear away my shaking limbs
in offering to the beasts that pray

Reading of the poem: 
Adam Hurst - Reflection

The death of her dreams

The death of her dreams
3 January 2022
Courtesy pinterest.com
Windchimes blowing mud
Replica of ghostly snow
trickling music slides

A symphony arises
blended with her heart
Musical feat strays

Orchestra goes on
Sound a slave to her teardrops
a simple witches’ brew

Fusion of features
An amalgam of sounds stir
Ice around her heart

A pulp of papers
Letters from a time long gone
components of slush

Hope and fear’s union
The slight feelings compounded
the death of her dreams

Reading of the poem:
Diary of Dreams - The Valley 
Written in the context of Ronovan writes weekly Haiku Poetry prompt challenge using the words “blend”, “slush” and their synonyms. For more information and to see the contributions please follow the link below:

Setting boundary

Setting boundary
4 September 2021
Courtesy pinterest.com
A figure so slight
a toe out of dainty shoes
Fleeting outlines blurred

A dash of sulphur
sinuous lines on her brow
a frontier defined

Exploring unknown
tuning into the channel
seizing vast landscapes

Limits extended
choice to heed fluttering ribs
Pinnacle of life

Throbbing subsiding
contours of the world fading
move into nothing

On the edge of death
the Queen handed back the heart
setting boundary

Reading of the poem: 
Nancy ajram Hassa bik New نانسي عجرم حاسة بيك with english lyrics

Written in the context of Ronovan writes weekly haiku challenge using the words “line”, “toe” or their synonyms. More on the rules and other poets’ contribution here https://ronovanwrites.com/2021/08/30/ronovan-writes-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-373-line-and-toe/

I yearn for your untouched skin

I yearn for your untouched skin

29 July 2020

Courtesy freewallpapers

 

I want to seep into your bones

like the chill of a winter night

I yearn for your untouched skin

its shadows now forever closed to me

like a book of secret pleasures

stowed away in a convent of nuns

 

With the yearning of a lifetime

I haul myself through summer

burdened by the winter’s pull

It hangs like dead leaves

fallen from a tree

where spring had once made its way

 

The fruit now lays barren untouched

like the skin of dead virgins

stopped in their tracks by an unknown war

their unseeing eyes swallowed

by the onslaught of darkness

 

I yearn for your untouched skin

Its light now a pale moon

rising in the midst of the hollow night

where only the waterhen cry

in a place I now call home

where the seagulls laugh no more

 

Reading of the poem:

Flam Monsoon Buddha Bar

The taste of ripe mangoes

The taste of ripe mangoes

4 July 2020

Courtesy quora.com

 

It used to be one of her favourite moments in childhood. They would sneak out of the house and run across the fields to the point where the mango groves began. They would hide at the extremity of the fields waiting to see if the guardian was there and if he wasn’t they would step into the grove and steal some ripe mangoes. It was usually a boy they called Thengai who used to climb the trees as he was used to climbing coconut trees and had a good foothold. His name Thengai which meant coconut came from not only because he climbed coconut trees but also because his hair combed down in a shell shape manner made the top of his head resemble a broken coconut shell.

 

Thengai would climb like a daredevil any tree in the mangrove and if the guardian was spotted he would be able to clamber down in no time often surpassing them as he ran towards the fields. Little did they know that the guardian always made a show of chasing them but slowed down if he got too close because he never actually meant to catch them. There would be no use indeed of catching them as the mangrove belonged to their family although they did not know it. In fact, almost all the lands around the houses up to the neighbouring city belonged to her family. Unaware of this, the children including her used to run like their life depended upon it, holding on tightly to the mangoes packed in their shirts or dresses, when the guardian chased them.

 

Later on, they would stop in the fields and put the mangoes together. They would then divide the ripest mangoes amongst them for eating on the spot and leave the greener ones for later. It was usually she who got the greener ones as her grandmother was very skilled at making mango chutney with the green mangoes. Once the bottles of chutney were ready, her grandmother would give her a basket of these to distribute around the neighbourhood. The neighbours respected and loved her grandmother not only because of this type of small kindness but also because she gave the lands to plough to the neighbours and only asked for a small share of the crops as compensation. People considered the grandmother as the main village benefactor.

 

She used to love going to the village and spending a part of the summer there during the summer break when her father did not yet have his holidays. It was all wonderful until that fated summer when everything had changed. She had not witnessed it herself but she often had nightmares about it and would wake up in the night trembling. For a long time after the incident, nobody had gone to steal mangoes from the mangrove. The villagers would talk about it in hushed tones when they thought the children were not around. Thengai had been riding the tractor of his father next to his older brother when he had slipped, and the tractor had mauled him before his brother could stop the giant wheels.

 

Some children had started going back to steal mangoes the next summer and one of the children had volunteered to take Thengai’s place as the picker. When they passed by her grandmother’s house she kept the door tightly shut and did not respond to their stage whispers calling her out. She could not bring herself to accompany them like she could not bring herself to eat ripe mangoes anymore. It was as if the mangoes’ ripe insides were like Thengai’s and for a long time the idea of eating them seemed repulsing. She also could not bring herself to distribute the mango chutney among the neighbours anymore and had grown sullener by the day. At the end of that following summer, her father decided to make her spend less time at her grandmother’s house.

 

Long after she had grown older and found out that the mangrove was theirs, she still would not accompany the children to the mangrove during the short breaks she was at her grandmother’s. She had started eating her grandmother’s chutney again, but nobody had offered her anymore ripe mangoes given her clear revulsion to these. One day, as she was walking through the fields, she found herself in front of the mangrove. The guardian was there and he seemed now a wizened old man. He looked at her and made as if he were going to chase her, but she laughed so he laughed too. He went towards a mango tree and reaching out pulled a ripe mango off the tree which he then offered her, slicing it in the middle. His face was wise and kind and she wondered how they could have ever felt afraid of him. She took the mango almost in a second state and bit into it. The taste of the ripe mango was heavenly as it mingled with her salty tears. She smiled up at the old guardian.

 

Kahlil Gibran – On death

Centuries of gifts

Centuries of gifts

13 June 2020

Courtesy pinterest.com

 

Walk with me

in meadows of green

I am witch

of the land

The time is but creeping sand

passing through fingers

 

Death lingers

on the land’s outskirts

Body hurts

as it breeds

swallows fears that it yet feeds

Dichotomy’s stance

 

The shining

Magic awoken

from my heart

to my hands

They give and don’t make demands

Centuries of gifts

 

Reading of the poem:

Antaeus – Kyrie

Desolation’s land

Desolation’s land

26 May 2020

Courtesy Stefan Gesell

 

It rises

From deep within me

Molten fire

Lava’s ash

Through mind’s eye I see them crash

The colossal waves

 

Tsunami

Riding through the coast

In my mind

I see it

More than it was meant to be

Upon the first look

 

Bodies strewn

Particles of dust

The engines

Steel and rust

The only witness that stood

Desolation’s land

 

Reading of the poem:

Dido – Hurricanes (Official Lyric Video)

The Malachite Curse 5 : Who killed Cuifen?

The Malachite Curse 5 : Who killed Cuifen?

21 March 2020

Courtesy pinterest.co.uk

 

Ming-Hoa’s sight was darkening as he felt the pressure of Chow’s hands around his neck strengthen. Soon he would be reunited with Cuifen he thought for an eternity or at least until only their bones were left. Ming-Hoa believed that once the flesh was gone, the consciousness of the person was also gone unlike the other villagers who believed that the life energy ceased to exist once the breath had gone. He could feel the blood beat at his temples as he mechanically gasped for breath. Suddenly he felt himself freed from Chow’s clutch. Those restraining Ju-Long had come to his rescue and pulled her off him. The women came over to try and reason with Chow so that she would stop trying to go back and strangle Ming-Hoa.

 

Slowly it would seem that Chow had been reasoned into passivity, so the men returned to their rolling of the coffin on the platform. Somehow none of them felt it was safe enough to directly haul the coffin over their shoulders like they would normally do. Besides, with all the marble of the coffin it was easier to roll it to the graveyard than carry it. Ming-Hoa who was now freed from Chow’s vice-like grip was wailing and following Cuifen’s coffin, uttering from time to time nonsensical whimpers that sounded like muffled words. Eu-Meh thought she could hear something like “Three drops of blood”… “One minute you were”… “body so pure “… “why did you tear” “my ponytail”. She wondered whether Ming-Hoa had attempted to abuse Cuifen and subsequently murdered her when she refused. It all seemed so logical. She should remember to mention that to the police when they would come.

 

There was no policeman in their village, just one in the nearby village and it would take a day or two for him to come over. She knew that the inquest would have to be handled by more than just that policeman so he would need to wait for the other ones to arrive from the city. This could take another two or three days so the inquest would only start around a week from then. She wondered whether it was wise to already bury Cuifen and have her dug out when the inquest started. There had been one other murder a long time ago and although the murderer had been known, the inquest had still decided that the body must be dug up to corroborate the way the murder had been carried out and the murderer who had been responsible for that murder. She wondered whether she should ask the villagers to stop the burial but realized that everybody seemed to want to be rid of the sight of Cuifen dead.

 

Chow who had now been relatively quietened by the women was now following Eu-Meh. This latter slowed down so Chow could catch up with her. Without a word Eu-Meh put a reassuring arm around Chow sustaining her frame as she could see that the normally stoic Chow was very near to collapsing.

 

  • I think I know who killed Cuifen, she said in a hoarse whisper, but promise me you will not do anything if I tell you.

 

Gurdjieff / De Hartmann – Persian Song