Scrubbing by Mother’s Back
Maryam Alsaeid
with echoes of Sit El Habayeb (Fayza Ahmed)
I hurry into the small bathroom
where she is crouched in the bathtub
between the taps – she tells me stories of her early
days as a bride – it is her ritual, friday wash
her back smooth yet firm, softening under my small insistence
ya aghla min rouwhe uw dammi, ya helwa ya aziza
(dearer than my soul and blood, my sweet, my treasured one)
tabtek no mamma, zaman siherty wa taʿabty we shilty
I have burdened you, mother, with my sleeplessness as a child
I am reaching her hardest places, her freckled back
pigmentation that has scattered and settled there
sit el habayeb ya habiba
lady of the beloveds, my cherished one
her back is endless, tight skin contoured perfectly into sand dunes
her head tilts down, hair straggling from the black band
resting on her nape
as I trace the scattered etchings of her lineage with a cloth–
scrub deeper, ya habibti ya nour el ain
my beloved, the light of my eyes
she rinses the soap from my hands, smelling of olives, watermelon
I watch the suds treacling over her beauty spots, catching
the light in the steam of tales – I leave
the room with hands as curved as her back
Maryam Alsaeid is a poet with an MA in Creative Writing, tutored by Carol Ann Duffy and Andrew McMillan, and most recently, she has been mentored by Julia Webb. She designs workshops that help women use poetry for healing and self-discovery. Published in Eche and a regular performer at literary events, she is currently writing a collection of love poems inspired by old Arabic songs.