Poetry: Ashraf AboArafe
Since February 27, 2026…
Al-Aqsa remains closed,
weeping without a call to prayer,
its gates sealed—
as if the sky itself has been shut above it,
as if the earth has forgotten
that here once stood a sacred direction.
O nation of speeches and silent defeats,
you raised your voices,
but buried your actions.
How did Al-Aqsa become
an uncomfortable question?
Where are the promises now?
Where are the red lines erased?
O world that prides itself on civilization—
where are your laws,
your conscience,
when worship is denied?
What if it were a synagogue?
A church?
Would silence still be your answer?
Where is the virtue of prayer in Al-Aqsa now?
Has faith become words—
instead of responsibility?
O Umar ibn al-Khattab—where is your justice?
O Salah ad-Din—where is your victory?
O Mehmed II—where is your resolve?
Are your prayers accepted
while Al-Aqsa is closed—
under Benjamin Netanyahu
and Donald Trump?
If dignity was surrendered,
how was silence justified—
as Itamar Ben-Gvir
closed its gates?
Do you remember—
Ramadan 10, 1393 AH?
October 6, 1973?
O Anwar Sadat—
where is the spirit of crossing?
When fasting was strength,
when prayer was commitment,
when crossing was decision—
not memory.
Al-Aqsa is not stone—
it is a test.
Of faith,
of will,
of humanity.
