flight

The Flight:

"Coffee or tea?" The piercing voice of the stewardess startled her into a jolting annoyance. She shook her head politely at the bright practiced smile in front of her. The stewardess scurried off to the next passenger, apparently unawares of the ruffled feathers she left behind. Amira glared at her back for an instant, and sunk back into the slump of comfortable despondency she was in. She stared out the window, a distant look glossing the surface of her tired eyes. The clouds floated in peaceful serenity around her. How she wished she was but a wisp of smoke, traversing the earth, with no cares, no worries. Traversing the earth with no searing, burning pain! Her thoughts drifted back to the horrors she left behind. Icy fingers of despair sliced deep into her soul. She shut her eyes tight, fighting the images. Gulping the painful fist that had formed in her throat. She tried in vain to hold back the gushing tears. "La illaha illa Allah" was all she could mutter to herself, over and over again, rocking gently back and forth.

"You are now safe, its okay honey" murmured the heavy set benign nun sitting next to her. Sister Mary stretched out her large arm and embraced Amira into her bosom. The cold metallic cross slapped her rudely across her tear streaked face, Amira wrestled her way out firmly. "I am okay" she muttered. Sister Mary nodded her kind eyes shining, "I understand�"
Amira stared rigidly out the window. She wondered absently about her new home. The future loomed nondescript in front of her. She saw more clouds, a mountain peak, and nothing but skies ahead. She stared suspiciously at Sister Mary, "What does she understand?"

It was Sister Mary who first found her, lying tangled in her own tattered clothes, smeared with a mixture of bloodied mud and grass stains, miles away from her village. Her frail body was brutally scarred and exhausted. Amira had tried to escape the horrendous fate at the hands of the soldiers. She was the one of the few survivors in what was once a thriving community, now a pile of dust, rubble, and dead bodies. They knew about their impending doom, and yet there was no where else to go. Villages were being attacked indiscriminately. The men fought hard, and died valiantly defending their loved ones. The soldiers attacked harder, with sophisticated weaponry and savagery. "Head for the forest!" Her father barked orders before his departure to face the inevitable. Her whole family split up, without a single goodbye. The bloodcurdling screams of women being stripped of their honor and brutally mutilated, the confused weeping of infants, mingled with the anguished cries of wounded men followed her as she ran. She darted in out of alleys furtively. Hiding behind market stalls, ducking in carts, jumping for bushes, she made her way running, praying, dodging, piercing screams urging her forth, constant prayer and remembrances her heart�s sole companion. She was one of the first to reach the forest, one of the first to walk right into the soldiers� trap�

The clouds lulled her with distant melodies of crystal mountain air, frolicking children and bustling markets; Her mother�s lilting laughter, her brother�s incessant humor, her neighbor�s constant chatter; The rattling of the midnight train, the shrill of dawn birds, and the sacred calls of the Adhan. The Adhan! How she loved the Muezzin�s voice, how she adored those trembling words falling from his lips "Allah is Great!" Her Beloved�s reminder to leave the world�s clutter for His Divine pleasure. She let her mind delve into the dark comfort of prostration, oh how many tears had she shed to Him in the darkest solace of her nights. How she adored the earth He let her worship on. How she adored the breath she used to proclaim His Majestic name, "Glory unto you Most High". She remained mesmerized in the space where she reclined without words steeped in deep conviction. "La Illaha Illa Allah", she finally sighed drifting off into a deep slumber�

-Maliha Balala.