Friday, 15 July 2011

The Griever

(tenth moment)

He was spitting tears as he held jars of jasmine

The water was ready for the rite

But he couldn’t do it and he handed it to me

He could see I was ready for the rite

He whispered guidance to me

And we bathed my father

But he cried, like a brother, he cried like a son

Because my father would always help him

After the cars had gone

The duties done

I showered, prayed, then sat

Wondering when I would cry like a son.

By Ali A. Naqvi

1 comment:

  1. wow this is really personal but i'm glad you're sharing it. it's really deep and it's really good mashAllah.

    Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un