This poem is from cageprisoners.
Marryam Haleem has a blog here.
14/08/2008
In the name of God, the All-Merciful, the Mercy-giving
For
The Guantanamo Bay
Detainees who, I pray,
Will stay on the straight path
And never dismay
Of God’s reward on the Last Day
The Last Third of the Night
Curled on my side
Cheek soft on my pillow
I listen, wide-eyed,
To the crickets chirping
Constant, ceaseless, unending
So unaffected by my heart-rending
Thoughts that are
Constant, ceaseless, unending
On his back, he lays
On a hard board
Listening to the waves
Rush in roaring
Constant, ceaseless, unending
So removed, uncomprehending
Of his heartbeats that are
Constant, ceaseless, unending
I rise from bed
Fixing my mind
On a kind of relief
That will ease my plight.
It is, I know, the last third of the night
Unknown to him,
The sun has risen
Over his prison.
Grim, he gazes at the walls,
So hard, impenetrable, so deaf to his calls
Alone, I stand,
Raise my empty hands,
Fold them across my chest
Over my heart’s distress
So constant, ceaseless, unending
With nothing to his name,
His heart’s all aflame,
Filled with hopelessness.
The worst, though, is his loneliness
So constant, ceaseless, unending
I whisper words so soft,
Melodious and sweet
Of divine guidance,
So comforting, complete
And constant, ceaseless, unending
He sits up sharply. Tense,
Face flushed with fear
Ears pricked to the shouts
And the thumps as they jeer
Constant, ceaseless, unending
I place my forehead
Gently against the cool floor:
O God, bless him I implore,
On him, your mercy, pour
Constant, ceaseless, unending
Enclosed upon, roughly grabbed
Beaten, thrown down
Body hits cold ground
They pound his face
Constant, ceaseless, unending
I turn my head, ending my prayer
Peace, creatures of light,
Ease replaces my despair:
They heard my calls; they care:
It is, after all,
The last third of the night
Shaken, heart and hands grope
The bloodied walls—still unmoved—
Retching, needing a way to cope
Humiliated, crying without hope.
No answer: just the waves
Unchanging, unaffected, removed
***
But then, at the Final Blast,
When all that’s penned has passed
All walls crumble to the floor
The crickets chirp no more
The hearts beat their last
The waves stop their roar
Then it will begin again.
This time, dear soul,
You will know
The sea heard your dismay
The walls did feel your plight
They will convey your suffering
Wrongs will be set aright
Angelic creatures of light
Will comfort you that Day
On your way to the Garden
But just so you know
Dear soul,
I too heard your calls
Feeling the pain you incurred,
And so, undeterred
I prayed for you,
Dear soul,
The last third of every night
By Marryam Haleem
Tags: guantanamo, marryam haleem, prayer, prisoners, ramadan
September 5, 2008 at 11:33 am |
Look at you getting all prolific…now I have a lot of catch-up reading to do.