“My Other Name Is Hagar,” Vita Poetica, July 2024

A Syrian friend and I sat cross-legged in her living room one day, drinking coffee and eating small, tart apples. Our kids had abandoned us for better entertainment. From the open window where her planter boxes sat empty, soft blocks of sunlight entered, warming the short-pile carpet where we sat. The scent of incense lingered around us; she’d been starting her mornings with incense and a chanted chapter of the Qur’an. I leaned forward, eager for more details about my namesake. “Tell me Hajar’s story.”