Ramadan 2016 — Day 1


Untitled

Ramy Eletreby

The new moon peeks behind the shadow

As will we

This holy month of Ramadan

We will step into the light

These next 30 days and nights

To expel our darkness

Bulbs we burnt out

These past 11 months

We now recharge, we reignite

Now, we make the choice

To surrender, to give ourselves up

And over to the fast

We abstain

From nourishment, from foolishness

To quiet our ego

That which ties knots

Tight and stubborn

Where they needn’t be

We let the fast work its magic

We lose ourselves

So that we may feel ourselves

Is that a contradiction?

Only in words

Which mean less now

We listen rather than speak

We recognize that silence

Is truly golden like the sun

Upon which we synchronize

Our clocks and our bodies

Our beginnings and our endings

We wait for the azaan

Its crying melody

To pierce the hushed night

Allahu Akbar Allahu Akbar

La Ilaha ila Allah

We begin the fast

Then there’s silence

Allahu Akbar Allahu Akbar

La Ilaha ila Allah

We break the fast

Then there’s sound

We seek community

The oil that helps

Loosen our knots

We gather together

We pray together

We nourish together

We unravel ourselves

To reveal ourselves

Like threads

Dangling

Weightless

Like fringes

Softly swaying

In the breeze


Black Eyes

Affad Shaikh

My black eyes foretold the second-coming-of-Christ.

Between smug and cocky, plebs pitter patter away their lonely days.

In the land between two oceans, a trumpeting trickster plays the Know-It-All boy. Just for a day.

A lie. The truth. All make for a truthful hyperbole.


Fast

Aisha Ishtiaq

I fast today, 
because I know not how to heal this battered soul and flimsy shell.
A battle has waged within me, 
and against me these last 11 months,
I have placed bandages over wounds
that continue to bleed and scar my very being.
The crescent moon,
brought with it a twinkle of light into the darkest recesses of my soul.
For I know!
For I know,
that without light, this soul would fade into darkness. 
Yesterday I was a victim, 
today I thirst to survive,
revive,
the me, 
that got lost along the river,
of forced expectations and commitments.
Like Tupac once said, “Only God can judge me now.”


Makorsha

Jordan Alam

He lived in a broken down house,
With peeling paint and shredded carpet,
Magazines and old newspapers taped up over the windows.

they come here to die, he said, and then repeated it.
I took a seat and listened.

at the end of their lives, he said,
they come here.
pale translucent skin,
running clumsily on broken legs.

Do they go quietly? I asked.
He didn’t seem to hear, or didn’t want to.
i just can’t ever put them out of their misery…

I watched one trail down the drain as he was speaking,
Turning, quivering, pausing,
The mere suggestion of an animal more than its flesh.


Day #1

Taz Ahmed

Rama-Dawn 
Rama-Don
Rama-Done…

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