10 Oct 2007 04:05 AM

Second wife's tears.

There's only You in my mind and heart,

so much of YOU there's hardly any space for me;

what am I saying, love?

For there is so much me in you that we have simply over-run ourselves

given over to each other to extremes;

extremes so long ago forgotten that the words

"love of my life" mean nothing more to us.

So insignificant the words when looking at reality,

of me and you and you and me,

for you have ceased to be and there's but me,

and in my mind and soul you live so peacefully.

Such longing and such love,

such craving and such peace,

such waxing, waning, always wanting hope;

the hope of a wife made true,

yet a wife only half of you.

I know the pain that must for certain fold over her heart,

the first you chose may feel a failure though she's not;

I did not mean to come along into her life,

I did not once intend to be the love that showed the emptiness you lived,

I did not mean for eyes to meet, nor words to be exchanged,

I did not mean to find Allah and then find YOU in him,

and You in me, and US as one.

How then to explain to a lady who has known you for so long,

yet never seen your worth,

that I intended not to be a thorn,

for lover's hearts would be far worse than life half lived and fully loved,

and mistress' role was never one cut out for me.

Where does she stand now that we walk our hand in hand?

Does she hurt knowing you are lost, at least in heart?

I pray her peace may find her for I never,

never meant to cause her any pain.

I think of her so many times,

I hear the years of common words expressed in some phrases of yours

and all that I can do is smile.

It does not help to hurt in jealousy for one who was already there when I "became"

it does not seem quite fair to feel the pang of your absence which stings so brutally,

for who am I to ask, to wish, to want,

when she was first to be selected as your bride?

Though she has hurt you time and time again my love,

though she has shown her colours far from fairest blue,

who am I now to judge, and who are you?

So I will live this silent pain of life half lived,

this craving for my soul that lives in you,

this me that walks your shoes and kneels to pray,

this ghost of now alongside longer yesterday.

I love you more than words could ever hope to recreate,

I long for time in equal share to hers,

yet time must take the place of my desire,

and angel's wings must do their work of love,

to show her whom she's been and why now this,

for it is not for me to judge or to aspire

an atom's weight of harm to a sister in Allah.

I sense full well the pain the sense of failure that she holds,

despite her veiling, pretending no care.

I sense of everything her pride's been hurt the most,

for though she did not want your love, she saw you hers alone,

never to be shared or to be divided at all.

I pray her peace may find her,

her mind and history may speak to her of hope,

and she may find the will to do as she always has felt,

for in her eyes you've never been a man,

but "idiot" and more,

forgive, my love, and let her be at rest,

and cause my presence not to hurt her even more.

I wait, in silence,

washed in these tears that you will never see,

knowing I have chosen a man that's mine in all respects,

yet knowing what I wish - equality -

can never, truly be.

So come, oh gentle night, and beg me sleep,

that I forget the emptiness beside my skin,

that I remember only that altough I've done what's right,

I give up this my love more than my rights.

And why?

That one other may not be hurt by such

the knowledge that her first loves me so much.

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