“Ya Allah
I perceive the Prophet's features, as
yet unrevealed, on my beloved's
mien... Who but Mohammed would dare
to embrace a sinner and call her
Mother? I seek refuge in you, just
a moment or two, of forgetting,
for the weariest pilgrim of all
whose footfalls thumped the beaches, the hills
the proscenium of the brave old
cities of the world, where she strutted
singing of human love. Perfect her,
if perfecting is your task, this singer
who lost her voice, singing, this danseuse
whose fatigued limbs tremble. The icons
have all fallen. They lie in
misshapen heaps among the bushes
that sport dusty leaves, dusty flowers.
The temple bells have sunk into a vast
silence, a silence shaped like a paw
fallen on the city, cutting off
its breath and yet all I can think of
is my dear one's resplendent smile, he,
beloved of merciful Allah,
who has unhurriedly claimed me for his own.”
(Kamala Surraiya)
Read more:
