The following couplet seems to be the heart of this Ghazal.

	Who listens to Ishmael? Even now he cries out:

	Abraham, throw away your knives, recite a psalm in Arabic.

I will forgo the back story of Abraham, Sarah, Hagar, Ishmael and Isaac, since you can either read it in the Bible or look it up on Wikipedia (the internet equivalent). Abraham’s son, Ishmael, is Abraham’s unloved, outcast “redheaded stepchild” who’s own children ultimately become the Islamic Arabs.

The repetition of the word, “Arabic,” shows the reader how tightly this language is tied to their history, culture and religion.

The structure of couplets and refrain, gives this style of poetry a paradoxical Form trapped inside of Flexibility and not vice versa. It’s a kind of turning the kingdom on its head.

Ali uses Abraham’s and Ishmael’s names respectively, as symbols or personifications of Israel and Palestine and the historical relationship between them.

The fact that Ishmael is asking Abraham to throw away his knives, shows Ali’s use of brilliantly terse irony by using Ishmael’s voice to call out to Abraham (rather than Isaac) to put away his knives. The reason this is ironic is because it was Isaac (the favored son), not Ishmael, who was under the knife in order to prove Abraham’s faithfulness to God. Yet in light of the near past and present day actions of the modern Israeli state, their response toward Palestine puts Ishmael, not Isaac, under the not so proverbial knife (err… gun… err… bulldozer…). An interesting thing to think about is how symbolically, putting Isaac under the knife could represent, self examination. But then what is the present day symbolism of putting Ishmael under the knife of sacrifice? Why or for what purpose is Ishmael being sacrificed? What is the opposite of self examination? Judgment? Persecution? Projection of one’s undealt with, inner demons? Domination? Manifest destiny? Etc, etc.

The power of the symbolism of the last line which reads, “recite a psalm in Arabic,” can only be experienced by understanding how directly tied, Hebrew and Arabic are to their respective cultures and religions. Thus Ali ends the couplet with a plea for two polarized religions/nations to find common ground in culture and religion, through using language as a looking glass for sociological imagination.

This question is a hard one and a thin line to walk, but how much power and in how many instances can be found the manipulation of the role of victim for personal gain? Let the dead past bury their dead.

—

Ghazal by Agba Shahid Ali (Imaginary Writing p. 331)

The only language of loss left in the world is Arabic—

These words were said to me in a language not Arabic.

Ancestors, you’ve left me a plot in the family graveyard—

Why must I look, in your eyes, for prayers in Arabic?

Majnoon, his clothes ripped, still weeps for Laila.

Oh, this is the madness of the desert, his crazy Arabic.

Who listens to Ishmael? Even now he cries out:

Abraham, throw away your knives, recite a psalm in Arabic.

From exile, Mahmoud Darwish writes to the world:

You’ll all pass between the fleeting words of Arabic.

The sky is stunned, it’s become a ceiling of stone.

I tell you it must weep. So kneel, pray for rain in Arabic.

At an exhibition of Mughal miniatures, such delicate calligraphy:

Kashmiri paisleys tied into the golden hair of Arabic!

The Koran prophesied a fire of men and stones.

Well, it’s all now come true, as it was said in Arabic.

When Lorca died, they left the balconies open and saw:

His qasidas braided, on the horizon, into knots of Arabic.

Memory is no longer confused, it has a homeland—

Say Shammas: Territorialize each confusion in a graceful Arabic.

Where there were homes in Deir Yassein, you’ll see dense forests—

That village was razed. There’s no sign of Arabic.

I too, Oh Amichai, saw the dresses of beautiful women.

And everything else, just like you, in Death, Hebrew, and Arabic.

They ask me to tell them what “Shahid” means –

Listen: it means “The Beloved” in Persian, “Witness” in Arabic.

Ghazal byAgba Shahid Ali

Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar

–Lawrence Hope

Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell tonight

before you agonize him farewell tonight?

Pale hands that once loved me beside the Shalimar:

Whom else from rapture’s road will you expel tonight?

Those “Fabrics of Cashmere”–to make Me beautiful–

“Trinket”–to gem–”Me to adorn– How tell–tonight.”

I beg for haven: Prisons, let open your gates–

A refuge from Belief seeks a cell tonight.

Executioners near the woman at the window.

Damn you, Elijah, I’ll bless Jezebel tonight.

Lord, cried out the idols, Don’t let us be broken,

Only we can convert the infidel tonight.

Has God’s vintage loneliness turned to vinegar?

He’s poured rust into the Sacred Well tonight.

In the heart’s veined temple all statues have been smashed.

No priest in saffron’s left to toll its knell tonight.

He’s freed some fire ice, in pity for Heaven,

He’s left open–for God–the doors of Hell tonight.

And I, Shahid, only am escaped to tell thee–

God sobs into my arms. Call me Ishmael tonight.

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