fragmented

Fragmented pieces of my heart I feel
From the child crying
Because of a desire
For what is not his
To the man as he kneels
In front of the pillar
In the Mosque on the hill.
From the children with rocks who feel
It’s the only way to survive
Either that or be killed.
From the innocent baby
Who cries for the first time
Taken from his mother’s womb
Not knowing all the while
His father was killed
By a stray bullet though
He was not on a battlefield.
From my sister with the strength
To wear hijab
On the streets of a country
Where she thought she had
The freedom to be the
Great person she is,
Little does she know
Legislation has passed
Making her ‘freer’ by
Locking her into tight jeans
And t-shirt
Making her ‘free’ from
The ‘oppression’ of the
Liberation of her religion.
From my brother with
The faith to move mountains
Who has no fear of asking
For five minutes to pray
Who cares not
Who finds him with his
Feet in the sink of
A bathroom occupied by colleagues
Who doesn’t mind being caught in
The middle of salah
As he prays for their
Souls and his.
From the young girl
As she prepares
The sweets she’ll share
With her classmates
On the day before Eid.
As she explains her
Religion and the
Beautiful things
Even a third grader can see.
From these members of my family-my Ummah
To the inner workings
Of my heart…all this
And more shall I feel
All this and more
MUST I feel in order
To be a working vessel
Of hope and love
And devotion in
This grand Ummah.
My heart is fragmented,
But loves all my
Brothers and sisters
I feel but can’t see.