a most sacred space
as I sit waiting for the morning’s golden rise to strike the black and golden hues of a most sacred space, the birds circulating its four corners, the masses of grateful servants chanting their Lord’s praise I want to take all the light that my pupil can let through in this moment and let it imprint on my mind everlasting these trying times, and this sobering moment, my Lord, this moment a culmination of a decade toiling painfully away and hopefully back towards this blessed place there is so much beauty in everything that breathes and moves here like the two little girls twirling to my left, the family that stands to take a standstill of a moment they’ll treasure, the young boy who faces the qibla and fixes his ihram clothes and bless the hands of those who honor and purify your masjid the sun’s slant marking the sway of their arms as they work to cleanse these floors upon which we place our foreheads earnestly. upon which we hope to walk again, sun to our backs
