Liberated Through Sewing

I would never have guessed,

Had you asked me before,

That sewing would be something

I would opt for.

I never took a class,

Never really liked it,

Watched my older sisters suffer,

And hate every bit.

See, they chose to take classes,

In their high school years,

And seeing them sew,

Was what bred my fears.

Oh, the nights they stayed up late,

With coffee cup in hand,

Fretting over backwards zippers,

And stray threads and strands.

Oh, the tension that grew,

As the minutes ticked by,

Their projects still not finished,

They would sit down and cry.

I would pass by their rooms,

Not letting out a peep,

And hear them recite mournfully,

“And miles to go before I sleep.”

From those days and on,

I did everything I could,

To make sure that sewing,

Was something I withstood.

Then fifteen years passed,

And I was alone with Mom,

“Let’s teach you to sew,”

There, she had dropped the bomb.

I fumbled and stumbled,

And somehow got through,

Sewing some dresses,

And a skirt or two.

Then nine more years passed,

In which I had never sewn,

I now had a husband,

And girls of my own.

I gathered up my courage,

Overcame my qualms,

Bought one dress pattern,

And imagined I was at Mom’s.

Many errors did I make,

And chaos almost ensued,

But I bit my bottom lip,

And my dream I pursued.

Oh, the happiness I felt,

As pieces became a whole,

Having no deadlines,

Being in full control.

No teacher to grade me,

Taking marks off for each mistake,

If something proved too hard,

I calmed down and took a break.

No one cared the sleeves were bunched,

Nor that the zipper was in wrong,

Nor that the dress was short here,

And that the other side was long.

For you see, I had no one,

To please except me,

I could do as I wish,

I was finally free.

Asiya Akyurt

Asiya lives in Virginia with her husband and twin daughters. She is an active MAS member with an ijaza (certificate) in Qur’anic recitation and tajweed, and enjoys teaching, interpreting and translating.