God Is Closer to You Than Your Jugular Vein (2021)
Plaster bandages, poem, 16 x 8 x 4
This is the story I created for 99 Clay Vessels: The Muslim Women Storytelling Project, which is a socially engaged art project I created (read more at 99clayvessels.com).
God is closer to you than your jugular vein
By Alison Kysia
Imam Ali was fighting an oppressor and ready to end their life when the oppressor spit in his face, at which time the Imam put down his sword.
FIRE
The minute I laid eyes on you
HMR
I knew you were a
White devil
Triggering memories of ancestors
Veil secured firmly over your eyes
A testament to your arrogance and ignorance
A clear sign of the choices you have made
You, HMR, do not get the final word
You were chosen, it is true
Without competition
Because they knew you were the one
The company girl who would get the job done
Just like your ancestors
Holding down women who were crying out for justice
Just like your ancestors
Using religion to justify your abuse
The devil’s existence is nothing but his flaming ego
You hated me because
You hate God
A knowledge innate in my being
A knowledge you thought you could buy
With all that Ivy money spent searching through books
Regurgitating words to conjure meaning
Unable to speak anything more than gibberish
True, I could not feign my boredom
You knew I knew
You know nothing of God
Nor yourself
An amateur, tinkerer, master of nothing
A White devil nonetheless
Who lunged for my jugular vein
Since that is where God resides
You thought you could extinguish my fire
Burn my remains
A fire fueled by your jealousy and hatred of a knowledge
For which you are ineligible
What does your book say about
Using religion to make a buck?
WATER
Water can purify
And it can kill
While I do wudu
You drown yourself in a poisonous elixir
To silence your own demon voice
That you mistakenly think is external
What is this privilege you speak of?
Allah is closer than your jugular vein
Which is why you always look like you are choking
Your gagging sweaty swollen face
gasping for air
The punishment promised
A seal on your heart and upon your hearing
Over your vision, a veil
With every vicious attack
Your heart becomes harder
What proof is there of what I say?
Water reflects
Those who surround us
reflections of who we are
You are flanked by a woman paid to
Bully rape victims of the priests
To whom you pledge allegiance
and a man planting informants in our communities
crafting legal arguments for torture and entrapment
Winning tawdry plastic medals
That make you weep for your love of what they represent
Purification rituals of your ancestors
Fully wired with a hood hanging out of your back pocket
As Fugazi said,
You’d make a great cop
CLAY
I spent year after year
Sitting at the wheel
Throwing balls of clay over and over
Not knowing why
One rakah after another
Not knowing why
But knowing it would bring me to this moment
Every potter knows that clay has memory
It remembers where it has been
Only the skilled eye can read its history
And hear its message
A request about how it ought to be molded
I molded 99 clay vessels
To mold myself anew
Out of clay with so many painful memories
To communicate a primordial love
Each of the 99 names
Embedded as memories in 99 women
In each vessel
A guidepost to freedom and liberation
Our true calling
TRANSFORMATION
I’ve always loved Judas
In some twisted realization that
Sometimes
Oppressors force us to make choices
About who we will be
You, HMR, are a Judas to so many
Who will read this
And know that I know
What you did to them too
I wish I had a magic wand
To transform your cold hardened heart
How powerful you could be
But even Judas had a role
To move a story forward
You made me choose a version of myself
I love more every day
A love of God
I didn’t fully understand
God is closer than your jugular vein
All I needed to do was touch mine
To remember
May I never forget again
It is a paradox that being enflamed
by a white devil
Can sharpen one’s vision like nothing else
And open a well of compassion in our heart
To heal the next victim
This does not justify what you did
But in my cosmic story
This is a gift that I received many times before
From your ancestors and mine too
Reminders of who I want to be
We all have to dance with our devil
If we truly want to be free
So thank you
HMR
For the gift you gave me
And never forget:
Judas had a choice
Just like you