Poem: "Subhan'Allah"
This poem was written outside the regular prompt calls. It has been sponsored by a pool with ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ng_moonmoth. It belongs to the China's Mistake, Aquariana, and Kraken threads of the Polychrome Heroics series. It follows "A Dangerous Thing to Be a Doll," so read that first or this won't make much sense. Next read "Working With What You Have" and "Repairing the Cracks" by dialecticdreamer.
Warning: This poem includes intense and controversial topics. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It features emotional meltdown, asking for help and getting it, aftermath of a terrible mistake, moral injury, crushing guilt and shame, feeling lost, nonsexual intimacy, aftermath of China's misbehavior and the blackout, world politics, emergency emotional-spiritual support across religions, reference to child molestation, discussions of moral responsibility, fear of possibly having killed digital people, self-recrimination, self-loathing, crying man, uncharacteristic but healthy reaching out for emotional and physical support, reference to past mad science abuse of a child, out-of-control feelings, stack failure, difficulty focusing, known failure modes of supervillainy, and other challenges. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward.
"Subhan'Allah"
[Saturday, January 23, 2016 around 3 PM in the Maldives and Thalassia]
[Saturday, January 23, 2016 around 6 PM in China]
[Saturday, January 23, 2016 around 11 AM at a compound in Italy]
"I need your help."
The voice was rough
with unshed tears, and
it wasn't computerized,
that was Marko's voice.
Even over a secure line,
President Latheef hesitated
to request much detail. "What
do you need?" he said simply.
"I need to talk," Marko said.
The President checked
his calendar. There was
nothing critical scheduled,
so he sent a note to clear it.
"Where can we meet?"
"My beach," Marko said.
"I'll send Sharan for you."
"I'll be waiting in my office,"
President Latheef promised.
Most of the times they talked,
it was online, because Captain Left
disliked meeting people in person,
but this was clearly Marko in
rather serious distress.
President Latheef hoped
that China wasn't launching
missiles or anything like that.
A few minutes later, the air
dimpled like heat waves and
Sharan stepped through it.
The teleporter shook hands
with the current bodyguard,
confirming the handoff, and
then offered his elbow.
"Thank you for the ride,"
President Latheef said
as he stepped into place.
Another step, and they
were on the private beach
at Hiyaa, its fringe of palms
shading a few lounge chairs.
Marko was pacing back
and forth on the white sand.
His bodyguard Cid gave
the President a pleading look,
begging with his eyes for him
to come fix this somehow.
Maybe it wasn't the President
needed here, but a friend.
In the interest of not needing
a healer later, Mamadou watched
until he caught sight of a Sunspot,
still green, rakishly askew on
the back of Marko's hand.
Cid had probably slapped it
on him as they went outside,
along with the floppy straw hat.
It was good to see Marko
getting outside more, though,
rather than hiding in his office.
"I'm here," Mamadou said.
"Shall we walk and talk?"
Marko gave a jerky nod
and went on pacing, now
with Mamadou following.
Their bodyguards hung back
out of earshot, settling into
the loungers under the trees.
"I've made a terrible mistake,"
Marko said. "I feel so ... lost."
"Something to do with
China?" Mamadou guessed.
The blackout had been spectacular,
and the economic upheaval was
still unfolding as more news about
China's many misbehaviors leaked out
and drove away its former customers.
Mamadou himself had been busy
divesting what he could -- he had
never cared for doing business with
bottom-ten countries, but there were
some things only China seemed to sell.
Fortunately someone had sent him
instructions for researching replacements,
which he had handed to his economists
with instructions to do their best at it.
Nobody really wanted to buy from
a country that abused its Muslims.
"Yes," said Marko. "I knew that
there would be casualties. Attacking
across international lines is an act of war
and we could not allow China to get away
with that." He rubbed a hand over his face.
"But I never expected this. I don't know
what to think. I don't know what to do."
"My friend, I will listen to your troubles
with an open heart and give you
what advice I can, though I am
unsure how much it will help one
who is Muallaf-al-Qulub rather
than Muslim," said Mamadou.
"I had given Heron Finn a program
to find relevant conversations online
so he could volunteer to help refugees
escape China," said Marko. "He found
sexbots -- robots with artificial intelligence
designed for carnal use, but they're people.
Some of them are made like children."
"That is an abomination," Mamadou said.
"It is unholy to molest children. In fact,
any lustful act outside marriage is a crime.
But those are the crimes of others, Marko.
What has you feeling so very guilty?"
"I didn't know," Marko wailed. "I didn't
find them in time. I knew that China made
masturbation dolls, but I didn't know that
they were creating AI interfaces to meet
the owner's needs for companionship."
"Were you in some way responsible
for knowing that?" Mamadou said.
"Did China steal your programs?"
"I keep an eye on cyberspace
in general," Marko said. "I should've
known. It's just that China is so insular,
it was quite tedious to get in and they rarely
seemed to come out much until recent years.
Then when the Great Firewall came down,
it was easy for hackers to get in as power
came back on, and we found -- horrors."
"No wonder you're so upset today,"
Mamadou said. "That sounds awful."
"That's not the worst of it," Marko said.
"What if I killed some of them? The blackout
spread through the nets, but we used EMPs
and other things in the biggest cities so that
even backup generators and batteries failed.
I don't know -- AI is robust, they should have
rebooted afterwards, but I don't know that
and I'm the one -- I should have known --"
Mamadou caught up to him and
captured Marko's face gently between
his hands. "Subhan'Allah," he murmured.
"What?" Marko said, his voice wavering.
Mamadou reminded himself again
that Marko wasn't a Muslim and
none of this might make sense,
but he had to try anyway.
"Only Allah is perfect and
without flaw," said Mamadou.
"We are made in His image, but
we are only copies, never perfect.
We are mortal, Marko, we all
make mistakes sometimes."
"But I should have known,"
Marko whimpered. "The web
is my responsibility. I should
have known that they existed."
"Did you have any reason
to suspect?" Mamadou said.
"Not ... really," said Marko.
"The advertising was so crude.
I think most of it must be just
dumb programming, and these
are some newer or rarer models.
Maybe not all of them wake up --
probably that's true, but still. I
should have been more thorough."
"Only Allah knows everything,"
Mamadou said. "We're only human.
We have to act on what we know
and our best guess of what is right.
That's all we can do. When we
know more, then we can do better."
"I'm not human!" Marko said, waving
a hand at himself. "Yes, I know
this peripheral looks like it, but I'm
not. These are my people."
Then he started crying.
Mamadou slid his hands
through Marko's hair, feeling
the network of tiny scars where
someone had cut technology
into his body as a child.
"You are human too. You
are flesh and blood, even if
you are also something else.
You share our weaknesses,"
Mamadou said. "You're not
a machine, Marko. Nobody can
expect you to be perfect, not even
your people -- not even yourself."
Marko leaned forward, resting
his head on Mamadou's shoulder.
He must really be devastated;
it was rare for him to touch others.
"I can't make it stop," Marko muttered.
"My emotions won't shut off like they're
supposed to. I can't stop feeling all of
the feelings. I can't work like this."
"That's not actually how feelings are
supposed to work," Mamadou said gently.
"They're not meant to turn off like a faucet.
You have to feel them to work through them."
"I don't want to. I hate this," Marko said.
"I feel like I'm drowning in emotions."
"A common sentiment," Mamadou said.
"Come on, let's sit down. I'll help you
sort out what's going on and what to do."
Marko followed him meekly to the lounges
that sat in the sand at the edge of the sea.
Sometimes, looking out over the water
made it easier to talk about hard things.
"I don't know where to start," Marko said.
"I keep trying to build a stack, but ...
it all just comes apart in my head."
"Start with your feelings,"
Mamadou said. "You've
mentioned guilt. What else?"
"Anger ... rage, really," said Marko.
"Grief, regret, all boiling together." He
sighed. "The blackout was quite satisfying
at first, though, before this came out."
"So, you made a decision that you
were happy with at first, but then
later information made you feel that
you made a mistake," Mamadou said.
"Yes," said Marko. "I can't afford
to make mistakes like this!"
"No leader can, but sometimes
it happens anyway. Subhan'Allah.
To be human is to need forgiveness,
and to give it," Mamadou said.
Marko looked at him sharply.
"Is that why you welcome
supervillains, not just heroes?"
"It's one reason," Mamadou said.
"I realized early on that a lot of
people became supervillains
for lack of better options, not
a desire to commit wickedness."
"True," Marko said with a sigh.
"It's amazing how many minions
are in it for three hots and a cot."
"The world is full of people drowning
in troubled waters," Mamadou said.
"All we can do is save those in reach."
Marko opened and closed his hands.
"My reach is meant to be longer than this."
"But not infinite," Mamadou said softly.
"Do what you can with what you have."
"I suppose," Marko said, looking
back out to sea. "It's hard to focus."
"All right, first think about what you did.
Resolve not to make the same mistakes
in the future," Mamadou said. "Then
you can begin to make up for this time."
"I jumped in without thinking enough,"
Marko said. "I made plans to take out
China's technology quite some time ago,
and just kept those up to date. I didn't
dig into their fetid internet as deeply as I
should've to know what they were doing."
"Then you know where you went wrong,"
Mamadou said. "From what I've seen, that's
a common problem with supervillains --
you're faster to respond, more forceful,
which is often effective but also
tends to run up your error rate."
"You are not wrong," Marko said,
his voice heavy as wet sand.
"Next, think about the people
your actions harmed," said Mamadou.
"Can you make amends to them?"
"I've already started some of that,"
Marko said thoughtfully. "I sent
teleporters to rescue the sexbots
who wanted to leave China.
At least they're out now."
"That's good," said Mamadou.
"You helped them as soon as
you knew that they existed."
"Artificial intelligence is just so rare,
I stopped looking all the time, stopped ...
hoping, I suppose," Marko admitted.
"There was that fracas in Japan,
but Dr. Infanta handled that and
passed on the bots to SPOON.
It was a much smaller case."
"There's more to the world than
meets the eye," Mamadou said.
"You are the best person to handle
this -- what do the neurovariants say?"
"Nothing about us without us,"
Marko quoted softly. "That's why
so many supervillains ignore
the nary police. They have
no authority over us, and we
won't be oppressed by outsiders."
"That's how it is for now, but that
won't last forever," Mamadou said.
"We are learning to work together,
and we should never give up hope."
"But what if I really killed some of
the sexbots?" Marko said. "I've
been afraid to ask about it."
Mamadou put a hand on
his shoulder. "My friend, you
cannot erase your sins until
you know the extent of them."
Marko made a small, broken sound.
"Some things can't be erased."
"The actions can't be undone,
but the evil of them can be,"
Mamadou assured him. "Allah in
His wisdom has given us many ways
to do this, because he knows we are
flawed. I know, you're not Muslim, but
some of them should work for anyone.
Good deeds erase bad deeds."
"Like the Restitution," Marko said,
naming the hospital ship that had
been funded entirely by supervillains.
"Exactly," said Mamadou. "If possible,
make amends to your victims. If not,
then give to charity instead, to benefit
those who are like your victims."
Marko lifted his chin a little.
"That I can do," he said.
"We call it Step 9 1/2."
"Good," said Mamadou.
"You're on the right track."
"I have plenty of resources,"
Marko said. "Our hackers
are shredding China."
"Don't commit a new sin
to make up for an old one,"
Mamadou warned him.
"I ... don't know if I can actually
manage that," Marko admitted.
Maybe Mamadou was asking
too much of a supervillain. He had
learned to take things in small steps
with the ones who immigrated, after all.
He could feel, though, that it was working --
Marko was pulling out of the despair and
self-recrimination that plagued him.
Mamadou's own superpower had
been with him for some time, but was
still relatively new to his awareness.
As best he could tell, it helped him
to perceive possibilities and make
agreements that benefitted everyone.
He reached out with it, delicately,
always coaxing and never coercing.
"Well, then just aim in that direction
and do your best," Mamadou said.
"You'll improve with practice."
"I'll try," Marko said. "I do
have some honest resources
that I can apply to this situation."
He had whole honest corporations,
if he thought to use them, but Mamadou
knew that too much hinting would
only undermine the process.
He glanced at Marko's hands
and noticed a change there.
"We should move to the shade,"
Mamadou said. "Your Sunspot
is starting to turn yellow now."
"All right," Marko said,
climbing out of his lounge.
Mamadou went to follow, but
snagged his foot on the leg
and wound up in the sand.
Marko offered him a hand up.
"Subhan'Allah," he said softly.
Mamadou smiled as he
accepted the helping hand.
This was definitely working.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so the notes appear separately.
ng_moonmoth. It belongs to the China's Mistake, Aquariana, and Kraken threads of the Polychrome Heroics series. It follows "A Dangerous Thing to Be a Doll," so read that first or this won't make much sense. Next read "Working With What You Have" and "Repairing the Cracks" by dialecticdreamer. Warning: This poem includes intense and controversial topics. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It features emotional meltdown, asking for help and getting it, aftermath of a terrible mistake, moral injury, crushing guilt and shame, feeling lost, nonsexual intimacy, aftermath of China's misbehavior and the blackout, world politics, emergency emotional-spiritual support across religions, reference to child molestation, discussions of moral responsibility, fear of possibly having killed digital people, self-recrimination, self-loathing, crying man, uncharacteristic but healthy reaching out for emotional and physical support, reference to past mad science abuse of a child, out-of-control feelings, stack failure, difficulty focusing, known failure modes of supervillainy, and other challenges. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward.
"Subhan'Allah"
[Saturday, January 23, 2016 around 3 PM in the Maldives and Thalassia]
[Saturday, January 23, 2016 around 6 PM in China]
[Saturday, January 23, 2016 around 11 AM at a compound in Italy]
"I need your help."
The voice was rough
with unshed tears, and
it wasn't computerized,
that was Marko's voice.
Even over a secure line,
President Latheef hesitated
to request much detail. "What
do you need?" he said simply.
"I need to talk," Marko said.
The President checked
his calendar. There was
nothing critical scheduled,
so he sent a note to clear it.
"Where can we meet?"
"My beach," Marko said.
"I'll send Sharan for you."
"I'll be waiting in my office,"
President Latheef promised.
Most of the times they talked,
it was online, because Captain Left
disliked meeting people in person,
but this was clearly Marko in
rather serious distress.
President Latheef hoped
that China wasn't launching
missiles or anything like that.
A few minutes later, the air
dimpled like heat waves and
Sharan stepped through it.
The teleporter shook hands
with the current bodyguard,
confirming the handoff, and
then offered his elbow.
"Thank you for the ride,"
President Latheef said
as he stepped into place.
Another step, and they
were on the private beach
at Hiyaa, its fringe of palms
shading a few lounge chairs.
Marko was pacing back
and forth on the white sand.
His bodyguard Cid gave
the President a pleading look,
begging with his eyes for him
to come fix this somehow.
Maybe it wasn't the President
needed here, but a friend.
In the interest of not needing
a healer later, Mamadou watched
until he caught sight of a Sunspot,
still green, rakishly askew on
the back of Marko's hand.
Cid had probably slapped it
on him as they went outside,
along with the floppy straw hat.
It was good to see Marko
getting outside more, though,
rather than hiding in his office.
"I'm here," Mamadou said.
"Shall we walk and talk?"
Marko gave a jerky nod
and went on pacing, now
with Mamadou following.
Their bodyguards hung back
out of earshot, settling into
the loungers under the trees.
"I've made a terrible mistake,"
Marko said. "I feel so ... lost."
"Something to do with
China?" Mamadou guessed.
The blackout had been spectacular,
and the economic upheaval was
still unfolding as more news about
China's many misbehaviors leaked out
and drove away its former customers.
Mamadou himself had been busy
divesting what he could -- he had
never cared for doing business with
bottom-ten countries, but there were
some things only China seemed to sell.
Fortunately someone had sent him
instructions for researching replacements,
which he had handed to his economists
with instructions to do their best at it.
Nobody really wanted to buy from
a country that abused its Muslims.
"Yes," said Marko. "I knew that
there would be casualties. Attacking
across international lines is an act of war
and we could not allow China to get away
with that." He rubbed a hand over his face.
"But I never expected this. I don't know
what to think. I don't know what to do."
"My friend, I will listen to your troubles
with an open heart and give you
what advice I can, though I am
unsure how much it will help one
who is Muallaf-al-Qulub rather
than Muslim," said Mamadou.
"I had given Heron Finn a program
to find relevant conversations online
so he could volunteer to help refugees
escape China," said Marko. "He found
sexbots -- robots with artificial intelligence
designed for carnal use, but they're people.
Some of them are made like children."
"That is an abomination," Mamadou said.
"It is unholy to molest children. In fact,
any lustful act outside marriage is a crime.
But those are the crimes of others, Marko.
What has you feeling so very guilty?"
"I didn't know," Marko wailed. "I didn't
find them in time. I knew that China made
masturbation dolls, but I didn't know that
they were creating AI interfaces to meet
the owner's needs for companionship."
"Were you in some way responsible
for knowing that?" Mamadou said.
"Did China steal your programs?"
"I keep an eye on cyberspace
in general," Marko said. "I should've
known. It's just that China is so insular,
it was quite tedious to get in and they rarely
seemed to come out much until recent years.
Then when the Great Firewall came down,
it was easy for hackers to get in as power
came back on, and we found -- horrors."
"No wonder you're so upset today,"
Mamadou said. "That sounds awful."
"That's not the worst of it," Marko said.
"What if I killed some of them? The blackout
spread through the nets, but we used EMPs
and other things in the biggest cities so that
even backup generators and batteries failed.
I don't know -- AI is robust, they should have
rebooted afterwards, but I don't know that
and I'm the one -- I should have known --"
Mamadou caught up to him and
captured Marko's face gently between
his hands. "Subhan'Allah," he murmured.
"What?" Marko said, his voice wavering.
Mamadou reminded himself again
that Marko wasn't a Muslim and
none of this might make sense,
but he had to try anyway.
"Only Allah is perfect and
without flaw," said Mamadou.
"We are made in His image, but
we are only copies, never perfect.
We are mortal, Marko, we all
make mistakes sometimes."
"But I should have known,"
Marko whimpered. "The web
is my responsibility. I should
have known that they existed."
"Did you have any reason
to suspect?" Mamadou said.
"Not ... really," said Marko.
"The advertising was so crude.
I think most of it must be just
dumb programming, and these
are some newer or rarer models.
Maybe not all of them wake up --
probably that's true, but still. I
should have been more thorough."
"Only Allah knows everything,"
Mamadou said. "We're only human.
We have to act on what we know
and our best guess of what is right.
That's all we can do. When we
know more, then we can do better."
"I'm not human!" Marko said, waving
a hand at himself. "Yes, I know
this peripheral looks like it, but I'm
not. These are my people."
Then he started crying.
Mamadou slid his hands
through Marko's hair, feeling
the network of tiny scars where
someone had cut technology
into his body as a child.
"You are human too. You
are flesh and blood, even if
you are also something else.
You share our weaknesses,"
Mamadou said. "You're not
a machine, Marko. Nobody can
expect you to be perfect, not even
your people -- not even yourself."
Marko leaned forward, resting
his head on Mamadou's shoulder.
He must really be devastated;
it was rare for him to touch others.
"I can't make it stop," Marko muttered.
"My emotions won't shut off like they're
supposed to. I can't stop feeling all of
the feelings. I can't work like this."
"That's not actually how feelings are
supposed to work," Mamadou said gently.
"They're not meant to turn off like a faucet.
You have to feel them to work through them."
"I don't want to. I hate this," Marko said.
"I feel like I'm drowning in emotions."
"A common sentiment," Mamadou said.
"Come on, let's sit down. I'll help you
sort out what's going on and what to do."
Marko followed him meekly to the lounges
that sat in the sand at the edge of the sea.
Sometimes, looking out over the water
made it easier to talk about hard things.
"I don't know where to start," Marko said.
"I keep trying to build a stack, but ...
it all just comes apart in my head."
"Start with your feelings,"
Mamadou said. "You've
mentioned guilt. What else?"
"Anger ... rage, really," said Marko.
"Grief, regret, all boiling together." He
sighed. "The blackout was quite satisfying
at first, though, before this came out."
"So, you made a decision that you
were happy with at first, but then
later information made you feel that
you made a mistake," Mamadou said.
"Yes," said Marko. "I can't afford
to make mistakes like this!"
"No leader can, but sometimes
it happens anyway. Subhan'Allah.
To be human is to need forgiveness,
and to give it," Mamadou said.
Marko looked at him sharply.
"Is that why you welcome
supervillains, not just heroes?"
"It's one reason," Mamadou said.
"I realized early on that a lot of
people became supervillains
for lack of better options, not
a desire to commit wickedness."
"True," Marko said with a sigh.
"It's amazing how many minions
are in it for three hots and a cot."
"The world is full of people drowning
in troubled waters," Mamadou said.
"All we can do is save those in reach."
Marko opened and closed his hands.
"My reach is meant to be longer than this."
"But not infinite," Mamadou said softly.
"Do what you can with what you have."
"I suppose," Marko said, looking
back out to sea. "It's hard to focus."
"All right, first think about what you did.
Resolve not to make the same mistakes
in the future," Mamadou said. "Then
you can begin to make up for this time."
"I jumped in without thinking enough,"
Marko said. "I made plans to take out
China's technology quite some time ago,
and just kept those up to date. I didn't
dig into their fetid internet as deeply as I
should've to know what they were doing."
"Then you know where you went wrong,"
Mamadou said. "From what I've seen, that's
a common problem with supervillains --
you're faster to respond, more forceful,
which is often effective but also
tends to run up your error rate."
"You are not wrong," Marko said,
his voice heavy as wet sand.
"Next, think about the people
your actions harmed," said Mamadou.
"Can you make amends to them?"
"I've already started some of that,"
Marko said thoughtfully. "I sent
teleporters to rescue the sexbots
who wanted to leave China.
At least they're out now."
"That's good," said Mamadou.
"You helped them as soon as
you knew that they existed."
"Artificial intelligence is just so rare,
I stopped looking all the time, stopped ...
hoping, I suppose," Marko admitted.
"There was that fracas in Japan,
but Dr. Infanta handled that and
passed on the bots to SPOON.
It was a much smaller case."
"There's more to the world than
meets the eye," Mamadou said.
"You are the best person to handle
this -- what do the neurovariants say?"
"Nothing about us without us,"
Marko quoted softly. "That's why
so many supervillains ignore
the nary police. They have
no authority over us, and we
won't be oppressed by outsiders."
"That's how it is for now, but that
won't last forever," Mamadou said.
"We are learning to work together,
and we should never give up hope."
"But what if I really killed some of
the sexbots?" Marko said. "I've
been afraid to ask about it."
Mamadou put a hand on
his shoulder. "My friend, you
cannot erase your sins until
you know the extent of them."
Marko made a small, broken sound.
"Some things can't be erased."
"The actions can't be undone,
but the evil of them can be,"
Mamadou assured him. "Allah in
His wisdom has given us many ways
to do this, because he knows we are
flawed. I know, you're not Muslim, but
some of them should work for anyone.
Good deeds erase bad deeds."
"Like the Restitution," Marko said,
naming the hospital ship that had
been funded entirely by supervillains.
"Exactly," said Mamadou. "If possible,
make amends to your victims. If not,
then give to charity instead, to benefit
those who are like your victims."
Marko lifted his chin a little.
"That I can do," he said.
"We call it Step 9 1/2."
"Good," said Mamadou.
"You're on the right track."
"I have plenty of resources,"
Marko said. "Our hackers
are shredding China."
"Don't commit a new sin
to make up for an old one,"
Mamadou warned him.
"I ... don't know if I can actually
manage that," Marko admitted.
Maybe Mamadou was asking
too much of a supervillain. He had
learned to take things in small steps
with the ones who immigrated, after all.
He could feel, though, that it was working --
Marko was pulling out of the despair and
self-recrimination that plagued him.
Mamadou's own superpower had
been with him for some time, but was
still relatively new to his awareness.
As best he could tell, it helped him
to perceive possibilities and make
agreements that benefitted everyone.
He reached out with it, delicately,
always coaxing and never coercing.
"Well, then just aim in that direction
and do your best," Mamadou said.
"You'll improve with practice."
"I'll try," Marko said. "I do
have some honest resources
that I can apply to this situation."
He had whole honest corporations,
if he thought to use them, but Mamadou
knew that too much hinting would
only undermine the process.
He glanced at Marko's hands
and noticed a change there.
"We should move to the shade,"
Mamadou said. "Your Sunspot
is starting to turn yellow now."
"All right," Marko said,
climbing out of his lounge.
Mamadou went to follow, but
snagged his foot on the leg
and wound up in the sand.
Marko offered him a hand up.
"Subhan'Allah," he said softly.
Mamadou smiled as he
accepted the helping hand.
This was definitely working.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so the notes appear separately.