Poetry: Ashraf AboArafe
Are we the nation of light… or merely the heirs of its shadow?
Do we truly see… or only pretend to listen?
Abraham passed through our streets… yet we did not recognize him,
For we were busy applauding idols unseen—
Idols of screens, of names, of illusions for sale.
He said to us:
“Do you not see?”
We replied: “We do…”
Yet we chose not to perceive.
He shattered their idols with an axe—
While we…
Nurture ours within,
Water them with fear,
And decorate them with silence.
When he was cast into the fire… he was saved,
While we throw ourselves daily into the fires of anxiety,
Yet fail to trust as he did.
Hagar ran between Safa and Marwa—
And her striving became a ritual…
While we run endlessly,
Not knowing why we run.
She asked:
“Is this by God’s command?”
“Yes,” they said.
Then she replied: “He will not abandon us.”
Yet we ask everything… except God,
And fear everything… except the loss of meaning.
And in a long night…
Ishmael said:
“O my father, do as you are commanded…”
While we delay obedience,
And negotiate truth to fit our desires.
And the angels gave glad tidings to Sarah—
She laughed…
For joy arrived after despair.
But when glad tidings delay for us…
We shut the gates of heaven,
And whisper: “Nothing will come.”
Where do we stand compared to them?
They were a family—
Not angels,
Yet they chose God… and became light.
O you who live in a weary age…
Abraham has not disappeared—
It is you…
Who closed the window of vision.
