Poetry: Ashraf AboArafe
O my Lord! You have sworn by the dawn and the ten nights,
And elevated their status between the morning and the afternoon.
You made the “Even” (Shfa’a) a sacrifice that brings our hearts closer,
And the “Odd” (Witr) the day of Arafat, erasing the gravest of sins.
Here we are at Your service, O our Lord, as Takbeer fills our souls,
Unrestricted across horizons, and restricted following our prayers.
We travel back in memory to the era of the Prophet and his companions,
To scenes where emotions surge like the waves of a river.
During the “Farewell Pilgrimage,” the Messenger of Good stood to preach,
Bidding farewell to his companions with a voice brimming with patience.
He recited: “Today I have perfected your religion for you,” and Abu Bakr wept,
For he understood the coming departure, and his heart melted with sorrow.
A glorious past of the Rightly Guided Caliphs who preserved
The covenants of guidance, raising high the banners of pride.
Will we, in the Hajj of 1447 AH,
Witness a grand structure for Islam beyond measure?
With a unified visa that gathers the scattered nations without barriers,
And a single currency of dignity uniting the Arab and the non-Arab.
And a railway network that binds the far east
To the closest west across the vastness of the land.
Or will the “Best of Nations” remain only within the hearts of its peoples—
A captive dream, still awaiting the dawn?
O my Lord! Our days today are deeply wounded
With bloodshed, and the wound of Al-Aqsa is engraved in my chest.
The sacred months pass by while tyranny crushes us
With killing and slaughter that has surpassed all bounds of atrocities.
Zion strikes ruthlessly, while America protects its flames,
And my nation remains like froth on the sea, living as mere spectators.
Abu Bakr wept for a religion whose light was completed,
While we weep for homelands demolished by betrayal!
O Lord! Grant the people of truth a way out,
And dispel the darkness of the night with the glad tidings of victory.
