Poetry: Ashraf AboArafe
Not all jealousy is virtue.
Some of it is blind fire—
when it ignites,
it burns its bearer
before it ever touches another.
It is the belittling of others’ creativity,
the shrinking of tall figures
so the dwarf’s illusion may stand tall.
It is mockery without right,
a hollow laugh
masking an empty heart
and the poverty of proof.
It is the planting of plots in darkness,
when the shadow fails
to stand in the light,
and tries to assassinate the glow—
not because it is wrong,
but because it shines.
The fire of blind jealousy
betrays its owner;
it reveals the narrowness of certainty,
the trembling of the soul
when calmness abandons it.
In the balance of Islam,
jealousy is not suspicion nor spying,
nor a doubt that gnaws at hearts;
it is awareness guarding values,
and wisdom that knows its limits
and does not cross them.
The faith forbade suspicion when it corrupts,
mockery when it destroys,
and plotting
when it turns into aggression.
Commendable jealousy
is light without smoke,
care without humiliation,
and honest critique
that elevates rather than demolishes.
But blind jealousy—
it is the disgrace of its bearer,
and the collapse of meaning
when reason
is replaced by fire.
