My Fathers Last Ramadan - 96 Years Old
THEN:
The first day of Ramadan,
We all gathered at your house
All year, we were waiting for this day,
For your stories, advices and prayers.
Except, your orders to your children:
“You level the ground,” “you spread the rug,”
“You bring the drinks,” “you bring the foods.”
The children scared of your orders,
Scared of your punishments.
But, lessons for their future,
Signs of love, signs of care.
“A’abba,” “a’abba,” “a’abba. (Father, father, father).
Time to eat, the sun was down,
“A’abba” the leader.
Your favorite food: dates and yogurt.
Your favorite drinks: “qameraldeen” and “aqood.”
Time to stand in rows to pray;
“A’abba” the imam.
Time to relax; you said it was a long hot day
Your worked in the heat, you rested under a tree,
You washed from the river, you prayed in the field.
You proud of your children:
One in college, and one just accepted,
One in high school, and one just accepted
One in intermediate school, and one just accepted
One in elementary school, and one just accepted.
You repeated: “Alhmadulillah, Alhamdulilla, Alhamdulillah,”
========================
NOW:
The first day of Ramadan,
We all gathered at your house.
All year, we were waiting for this day,
For your stories, advices and prayers.
But this time, you were too weak,
You were laying, stretching, on you bed.
Couldn’t sit, let alone stand,
Couldn’t talk, let alone laugh.
Wasn’t that a faint smile,
On your bony face?
Wasn’t that a silent prayer,
On your thin lips?
Last year, you smiled wide,
And prayed loud:
“May next Ramadan be also glorious.”
Glorious Ramadan,
But without your stories, advices and prayers.
Your grand-children surrounded you,
Some carrying drinks, some carrying foods:
Your favorite drinks: “qamaraldeen” and “aqood.”
Your favorite food: dates and yogurt,
“Jiddo,” “jiddo,” “jiddo.” (grandpa, grandpa, grandpa) calling.
But, “jiddo” wouldn’t eat
“Jiddo” wouldn’t drink.
In the circle around the food, “jiddo” was not there,
In the rows for prayer, “jiddo” was not there.
“Where is the imam?”
“Who is going to be our imam?”
You motioned with your hand: he will be imam.
The “imam” hesitated, trembled and stuttered,
No “imam” like “jiddo.”
You noticed; tears came down your cheeks.
Farewell tears, farewell words:
“Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah
My end, facing death,
Your future, with love and care.
Until we all meet in Heaven.”
Amen “jiddo,”
Amen “a’abba,”
=================
Copyright © Osman Salih | Year Posted 2017
|