I have always been fascinated by the mysterious burqa, niqab and hijab worn by Muslim women. I can't imagine living my entire life hidden from everyone in public. I can't imagine the thoughts of those that are forced to wear it; never to feel the gentle wind against your cheeks or feel the rays of the sun on a warm spring day. Of course, this is possible, but only in the privacy of their homes when no other males are around but their husbands or very close relatives — a life spent in total submission to society and its traditions, no freer than a bird in the sky.
I have heard of a few stories where the ladies claim to like wearing it, as it keeps the prying eyes of the men away. They boldly claim that it is about expression rather than oppression. This makes me wonder what kind of woman this would be.
Does she secretly live in fear? After all, we know that it is always the women who are to blame for the wandering eye and hands of the men. It is these women who are stoned and punished even to death if they are caught flirting or being improper with a man. Perhaps they wear it for their own protection against men forever looking for opportunities to blame others for their weaknesses. These gentle women are, of course, the temptresses who must be hidden away. Greater still is the mystery of those who honestly believe this is true and part of the Islamic faith.
The following poem was written several years ago in response to these mysterious ladies one might encounter in a Muslim country. However, such ladies are not limited to Islamic countries. One can witness them in London, New York or other places where Muslims have migrated.
image source: Los Angeles Times World 02/27/08
Black crow in the centre of the street,
Never looking up or daring to meet our eyes.
She is a black crow.
Children at home, pretending to play,
The unfaithful far away husband has now flown.
She is a black crow.
Sitting still and alone,
Hidden in shadows we’ve never known before.
She is a black crow.
Behind a veil of dark mystery,
Left without a melody or song.
She is a black crow.
Black crow, I saw her today,
Looked in my direction, but then looked away from me.
She is a black crow.
Tears in her eyes run gently down her cheek.
She is unable to speak and quickly turns.
She is a black crow.
Why doesn’t she fly, far away,
Like the eagle in the clouds?
She lives her life a prisoner, in captivity.
She is a black crow. She is a black crow.
Posted by Erich Shelton. Posted In : Poetry
I currently teach graphic design and illustration at the University of Southern Indiana. I really love teaching and the challenges which this provides me. It not only keeps me young, but forces me to be that ongoing learner; sometimes referred to as a life-long learner. This goal of continuing to learn as finally brought me back to the role as a student as well. Some years ago I started and MFA, but due to an automobile accident was unable to complete it.
I have just been accepted as a student at the Academy of Art University in San Francisco and will finally be able to work on the MFA. The great thing is I can continue working at USI and will visit the AAU in the summer. The rest of the time I am able to take my courses online.
Like technology and life, it is constantly changing and evolving. What a joy to be part of it all!
