Wreckage of a Heart...

I feel in your heart the sting of sorrow
and hear the cry of what is to come,
and on your cheeks the flame of tears
that despair wrestles between the ribs.
Ali Mahmoud Taha

She lived in a world vast with hopes, glittering with the lights of high station, mingled with the glow of merriment and gladness — yet she was nothing but a wretched girl whom fate had drowned in a basin of destinies...

She had begun to hide her streaming tears behind a laughing curtain from which wafted the odor of shame; but that noxious odor spread only within the folds of her tormented soul, touching her delicate nerves with its fiery fingertips, so that she suffered from it, and her strength gave way, and she fell headlong onto a couch that stood nearby.

She was a reckless girl, harsh in her judgments upon society's worn-out traditions; so she paid no heed to anyone who might see her in the company of Jamil in the public parks and at dancing parties. She had loved him by force of neighborhood, and he loved her out of desire — the fact being that she was a beautiful girl, gentle in company, a captivator of hearts, lissome of figure, lofty of feeling; her radiant face was crowned by two wide eyes green as the leaves of the trees, upon which love bestowed its great luster!

When she loved Jamil she thought that happiness had become her rightful possession, a handful in the palm of her hand; she lavished her tenderness upon his miserable soul whenever she felt despair casting its griefs upon her being, and its hard shackles upon her weary nerves.

The poor girl was building the beam of hope out of clouds of fancy, that she might become Jamil's lawful wife, if only for a single second of her dark life — though she knew that Jamil's heart was not hers alone, but was portioned out among the hearts of the girls who had fallen victim to his cunning and prey to his treachery. But there was a certain seductive girl who, with her unerring weapon and her tempting ways, was able to capture Jamil's heart, beguiling it with cunning and treachery while bearing, in their stead, the buds of true love. That was Watfa, who entered into the snare of their love in a strange fashion, whose phantoms Ghada found it beyond her power to dispel, or to quench their bursting forth into existence.

Surging jealousy settled into the folds of her soul and set the membrane of her heart aflame, until she became a fiery girl, blazing up time after time.

But... but what could she do in the face of her rival Watfa, who had defiled friendship and demolished its very elements? Should she tell Jamil romantic tales about Watfa, spun from her own imagination, that he might recoil from her, and keep away from her, and remain hers alone?

No — she would never commit a sinful act to torment her conscience, nor would she stoop to anything base that would testify to meanness in her. For a woman's soul is the mirror of her heart, shining white, which holds within its walls, for mankind, the noblest of dealings and the most generous of intentions.

Virginal fancies and thoughts turned in her head, and the raging waves tossed her to and fro, until her eyes came to rest upon the lines of the invitation card by which she was bidden to the wedding of her beloved Jamil to her rival Watfa.

Poor Ghada! The arrows had shattered her heart, and left the fire to devour the nest of her hope. Her senses awoke suddenly to the claws of jealousy tearing at her heart, "while the voice of reality branded her with humiliation and disgrace."

Amid all these upheavals and colliding storms in her mind, the poor girl could do nothing but accept her rival's invitation to

her wedding celebration to Jamil... that man without whom she had vowed to herself never to live.

Here now the wedding day arrived, and here was Ghada among the guests, watching her beloved and his bride as they prepared the necessary marriage ceremonies. And so, while she was unawares, the palaces of hope that she had built in dream and in waking collapsed, and in their place rose towering pyramids of shattered revolt and wounding jealousy.

In a fleeting instant her troubled dreams carried her off to a world in tumult, until she became, among the company, something like a statue that made no movement — a person present without consciousness or direction. And how could she take pleasure in a celebration she had hoped would be her own?.. How could she enjoy gladness when the fruit of her design was lost? She was now scorched upon the ember of perplexity, torn between her heart and the piece of her own flesh... She preferred death to life, rather than see her beloved in the arms of a girl notorious for depravity and ill character and for toying with hearts... She loved him with the strongest of loves, and worshipped him with the greatest of worship... But... but alas, he had sold her love and put out its blazing hope in her eyes... and all that for a girl not worth the price of fidelity — and fidelity is precious to whoever keeps it. But what did she remember of her bygone days, those she had spent with Jamil? Did she remember that ill-omened day when she walked at his side among the bright fields and the thickets of fresh flowers, after which the two of them went off to Jamil's house, where they passed no short while, during which she drank with him cups of aged wine — and how she thrilled to his tender words as he whispered in her ear, moment after moment...

Ghada... my darling... how happy I am to be near you... how rich I am — not in money, but in the love my soul has roamed after, a youth tormented by the fires of deprivation...
Ghada... you are the goddess of sacred love...
Look, look at the birds, how they sing for joy at our happiness.
— Do you love me as much as that, Jamil?
— I do not love you — I worship you...
Ghada was delighted by these charming

and grand phrases, and became in his arms like an enchanting rose wilted by the breeze; and he began to press upon her violent kisses issuing from a treacherous heart, until, when he felt that her spirit had given way and her nerves had gone limp, he carried her to a couch that stood nearby...

A month later Ghada felt that she was with child, and when she told him of it he disowned her, displaying before her the chastity with which he was adorned and the gallantry in whose virtues he took such pride.

Poor Ghada — she wept the tears of her deed. Ghada gave birth to her daughter Ghufran, and when Jamil learned of the matter, the feeling of fatherhood stirred in his soul, and he hastened to Ghada to claim the fruit of his passion. Ghada did not stand in the way of his wish, but handed over her little girl Ghufran with full peace of mind and ease; and he in turn placed her in trust with one of the poor families, to care for her, for fear of the great scandal.

A thought — thoughts and teeming fancies passed through Ghada's mind and cast the ghosts of the past across her head, until her senses awoke suddenly to find her still sitting withdrawn in one of the corners of the celebration, amid the rumba and the enchanting music. After a short while, Ghada drew near to Jamil with stumbling steps and whispered in his ear muted phrases... Congratulations... Jamil... congratulations on your joy... congratulations on your happiness... But... but how will you sleep at your bride's side with a contented eye... a tranquil mind... an easy conscience?... Where is your daughter Ghufran? Where is the flower you plucked and flung among the thorns — lost to her kin, straying far from her companions, carrying within the recesses of her heart the mark of shame?...

At this Jamil was thrown into confusion by the horror of her words, and the signs of agitation showed upon his face; then he answered her question in a distressing tone that would shake stone itself: the family with whom he had placed Ghufran had

left the city for another, and he did not know what had become of her now.

Upon this violent shock, which was like a thunderbolt, Ghada sank to the ground in a faint. The people were moved at the sight of her and rushed to give her what aid was needed; and when she came to, she returned to her house broken-hearted, her heart in wreckage.