I know I should not e doing this. I have one on going fic that I owe updates for, requests I need to write and another fic I need to get going, so I definitely do not need to start this, but if I don't it out of my system I might die. LOL! Ok, maybe not die, but you know.
To all those waiting for an update on In Phuket, I promise it is coming, I probably do not have a good excuse for its delay so I just apologize. Jimelda, I have not forgotten about your request either. It is also in the works I promise, but I just need to get my head on straight first. Finally, I definitely have not forgotten about Not With Anyone, that also will be picked up again very soon. Please do not give up on me.
Now onto this little experiment. I call it an experiment because I am scared like hell of doing what I plan to do and here's why. Nizar Kabbani is one of the greatest poets of the Arab world in the 20th century, and what I am about to do is close to massacring his beautiful poetry by first attempting to translate them to English, and then using them to write fanfic.
So, I'll give it a shot and see if the literary police don't come after me in the night. If it works, I might write more of these. (I will state the name of the poem used for every chapter at the beginning).
Title: Shattered
Poem: After the Storm (Ba'ed Al A'sifa)
Characters: Jack/Kate
Summary: Their pasts often come to haunt them.
Often did you storm out in anger
And often was I too harsh upon you
The shards of broke glass cower fearfully in the far off corner, hiding from the storm of rage that has overtook the room. Neither one of them remembers who threw the first plate or cried the first words. Those are already things of the past by now.
She sits on the opposite corner, body slumped against the cold wall, her eyes blood shot, her cheeks streaked black with drying tears and mascara. He crouches in front of her, wordlessly reaching over to grab her bloodied hand. She pulls away and he drops his head, shoulder slumped in fatigue and anger. An exasperated sigh escapes his lips and he tries again, wrapping his long fingers around her small wrist and she lets him. Her head turns to the side, her eyes averting his.
Immature we were in our behavior, in our pride
in losing track of what we are destined for
His touch is gentle, his fingers healing her cuts with softness and care, a complete contrast to the anger in his eyes, the furious flare of his nostril. She tries to say something but it just escapes a strangled sob. Their eyes meet for the shortest moment before they break apart. He turns to focus on her wounded hand; she goes back to staring at the shattered glass, victim of their latest battle.
It does not need stitches, but she still hisses in pain when he blows against her skin. Her hand is cleaned, the gauze is neatly wrapped and he kisses her knuckles swiftly. He pulls her up with him, one hand holding onto her healthy one, the other tiredly untying the knot of his tie.
You smile and hold my hand in yours
and all my doubts are replaced with faith
He collapses on top of her, his warm breath coming short and fast against her chest. Her fingers run through his hair, blunt nails against damp soft hair. He rests his forehead above her breasts, sweaty skin sticks to heated skin as they are made one in so many ways.
Being together is our fate,
my dear, despite all that has been
He whispers an apology, the words vibrating against her, sending goose bumps across her flaming skin. Her hands land on his cheeks; urging him to move up, raise his face to hers. His eyes are shut, calm eyelids outlined by dark lashes. She kisses each one gently before her lips find his. He shifts on top of her and she welcomes the weight, she craves it.
She tells him she loves him but her words are scared, wary and laced with guilt. He smiles, moving on top of her, he smiles, pushing away the curls that hinder his view of her face.
Do you love me even after all that has been?
I love you despite what has been.
His body stills, his thumb caressing the skin below her eyes, whispers for her to look at him and when she opens her eyes, his breath hitches in his throat. But when he smiles, she smiles too. She traces the contours of his face, memorizing the feel of his scratchy stubble below her smooth fingers. He kisses her forehead, leaves his lips there as he lovingly whispers his reply.
The past, I do not wish to bring up
All that matter is that you are here, now.
I love you… how can I
reignite the flames of the past
The shards of glass are left ignored until hours later, when together they kneel side by side, picking the broken pieces, not bothering to salvage any part of that past.
Our words of anger are ridiculous
How stupid they were and we were
They giggle over shattered glass. Their laughter fills the house; every hall, room, closet and corner comes to life with the echo of their love.
No matter how hard we fight
Love is greater than our sins