Starlet
By Medina Tenour Whiteman
My mother had only stepped out for a minute
– fractious baby with sparkling ear studs
cropped black curls large ebony eyes
straddling her hip –
so we could watch the slideshow
in peace
concentrate our grownup
fact-absorbing minds on the disaster
blossoming like a red camellia
roots in Syria but petal tips
folding out over Turkey, the Mediterranean
and now Granada
recounted by a man who lost half his leg
when a missile hit his house
during dinner in Aleppo
We shudder and tut at
tent-and-barbed-wire horizons
grubby grinning snaggle-toothed kids
in a camp bulldozed a year ago
its starlet, born there, now
illuminating an Andalusian street
her points of origin razed twice
I slip outside the screening
to check on my daughter
and this baby’s mother comes too
umbilical pull still strong
but neither are anywhere to be seen
I pace the street calling
she shadows me
her eyes colouring
breath accelerating
and we start to run up and down the hill
me calling “Mu-u-u-um!”
like an affronted teenager
until at last they appear
the baby gnawing on a breadstick
which, seeing tiny teeth, my mum
had gone to the bakery to buy
and this 19-year-old Syrian mother
breaks
I wrap my arms around her
habibti
wishing so many habibtis
had found their lost babies
strolling casually round the corner
on a strange grandmother’s hip
chewing a stick of bread
We laugh as though it were
something trivial
as though it’s silly to cry
at intimations of grief
when it’s threaded
through all the warps
and if one day you pull on it
the whole thing
puckers
Medina Tenour Whiteman is the author of three books, the travelogue-memoir The Invisible Muslim: Journeys Through Whiteness and Islam (Hurst, 2020), Huma’s Travel Guide to Islamic Spain (Huma Press, 2016), and the collection of poetry Love is a Traveller and We Are its Path (Ecstatic Exchange, 2016; 2nd edition Mzungu Press 2018). She lives near Granada with her family.