Dear Arabic Women,
Ana farhana lana 2abeltik ya habibti, ya noor 3eini. I always find you looking to the distant afar with the most fashionable sunglasses in your sad look of anticipation. The mystery behind them is the part that entices me so, and my heart shall craft a blank canvas for untold fairytales come true…
Gazing into your deep brown eyes of the darkest pomegranate elixir, it bursts into life in a supernova of opal champagne. They glimmer in the radiance of sunlight. While I lose myself in them, a prayer is sung in dedication to you.
Though you hide behind the confines of your niqāb, the song of blessing inspires you to remove your veil of safety. With the sun’s warmth upon your face, it reveals your skin of silk, like the unblemished virgin whiteness of desert sand. The darling pout of your date flavoured lips takes me away to another realm of existence, where broken hearts are enchanted and bittersweet.
It saddens me, when you feel less attractive than your ethnically diverse sisters. Yet the natural masterpiece of your nose that was carefully formed by Allah is the essence defining the way of a woman, for every imperfection is a pathway towards your perfection. Though they evoke me to exalt you in kisses from head to toe, your tearful droplets are the descendants of gemstones, and my only desire is to softly touch them away.
The majestic ocean of your face tells a magical tale from the Qur’an as your cries drift to distant shores. Your smiles begin to surface and the rhythm of my heart grows in excitement. Seeing your delightful happiness is like having a suicide bomb inside my chest, ready to explode with ecstasy at any given moment.
All you’ll ever have to do to activate my incredible joy is open your tender mouth and whisper endearing romances. In your words, the first spitting rain of summer will emerge with an appearance of the most vibrant rainbow. They create a mirage of hopes and dreams for a beginning of you and me.
Dear Arabic Women, you might think the only reason I want to marry and spend Arabian nights with you is because of your graceful hospitality. You might even think it’s so I may possess you and make you mine. Well it isn’t the reason why.
A woman’s freedom is sacred, and love is to give you wings, while hoping for your stay. I promise not to let you go like Abraham did to Hagar, but continue cherishing you. I’ve no camels to offer, but with this remarkable motor and horn, I hope you’ll hitch with me.
As the oscillating motions of your hypnotic belly dance make their way toward me, I’m drawn to the many dreams of nurturing your womb. You’ll always remain to be the morning dew upon a desert rose and the Mecca in my spirit and soul. Will you roll away with me on this magic wheelchair ride tonight?
Your Converted Infidel,