“Mafai mushkala”
he says to me
a wide grin stretching his honesty
“Mafai mushkala, Teacher”
repeated again as he strolls in
with outstretched hands
10 minutes late to class.
with eyes of death I bore into his bravado
breaking resistance before it begins
and the smile recedes
no words are released
bright menace
burning them whole
Until his arrogance has faded
and shifty eyes search for a crutch from other students
but they have seen this glare before
they know to keep quiet
“Mushkala” I say
“big Mushkala”
I know not the word for big in Arabic yet
but my students are smart
and he understands
next comes the pleading
as his name goes in my book
I direct him to his chair
staring shards of glass
and he sits on the broken pieces
no longer comfortable
another battle won today
Tomorrow he will be on time.
I hope
No comments:
Post a Comment