Know Islam

Know Islam, Know Paradise


July 21, 2018 Islamic Poems 0


Men shouting Allah Akbar

In Borno, -and I mean; in villages
where death is only a qiblah
faced five times a day,

First, when the sky is an ocean of
darkness, and a pinkish-orange glow
appears from nowhere, like a foundling carved
out of onyx, A faint beam of hope
flickers for a moment as you hear the
Muazzin call to prayer, but you watch the
hope, see it, feel, hear it die, as
the muazzin’s throat is ripped apart by
bullets, like a thorn branch ripping
through wet wool, and you stop
to hear him call.


Second, when a bomb explodes in
the mosq after zuhr, and the
whiteness of its pillars is gutted,
you watch men turn to ashes, and
you face death, but you do not die,
and third, when you arrive home at ‘asr
with a smile, and find bullet holes
drilled in your door, your blood runs cold,
but it is only your smile that faces death,

Fourth, when you trace the lines on
your palm into streams flowing with
memories but you cannot fetch, because
blood is meant to be donated,
and memories of your daughter floats
in blood, you do not know which,
maybe the blood that flowed down her forehead,
or her chest, or leg, three bullets, from the guns of
men shouting ‘Allahu Akbar’, watching
the blood of an eight year old splash on her
Mushaf at the madrasah.
You want to hold onto it, but the memories
are fading, fast, dying, facing the qiblah,


And fifth, when you watch the news at ‘ishaa,
and a man who never knew how beautiful
you daughter was says that muslims
are attempting to kill every non-Muslim,
and you wonder if your daughter was non-Muslim
too, and conclude that it was the cheerful
spark that lingered about her eyes
that made him, -and maybe her killers, think
she wasn’t Muslim, because they believe muslims
do not smile, and hers was beautiful.
Or maybe, the man just didn’t know her,
and your neighbour, and your cousin,
and the victims in iraq, in Mali, in Syria,
and 70 percent of all victims of terrorism,
you conclude that maybe he
only knew the victims of 9/11
and forgive him for not seeing beyond his
country, because the world is round,


You forgive him, because the prophet said
to forgive before sleep, and death is the
mother of all sleep, you forgive him, whispering
Laa ilaa ha illa llah, as you hear the sound, the bullet,
the ‘Allah Akbar’, you forgive him, before
you face the qiblah for the fifth time in a day,
before you face death, in the hands of men
shouting Allahu Akbar


Lan Rey Hassan

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