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When I first came to Cairo I used to stand at my seventh floor balcony and look over the misty, polluted sky containing an endless horizon of cement buildings. It made me feel somewhat depressed and often claustrophibic! So I'd think about the past of this place and the beauty that man's hand turned into ugliness. Yet hope remains if we, as Muslims, can align our lives with Islam and rise above the evil that surrounds us.
I lookout a broken
city
Bustling busy broken city
Beauty among the shabby rooftops
And smoky sky
Beauty in sound -
I hear Azan
From a mosque below the street
A serious face
Calloused hands with a
Mark of prayer embedded
On a smooth brow
Beauty in a
splendid past
Legacy hidden
Below shacks that house families
Past pointing
between
Old and new
Side by side
Hijab and lipstick
Minds narrowed by
a floor of knowledge
Hearts dried
‘Til only a shadow of love remains
Leaning towards a child
Still fresh, still whole
Mosques which only
call Azan
An empty shell
Of a history stretching over centuries
Wars fought and won to keep its call
Bodies of martyrs
buried
Beneath the sands, with souls souring in bright green birds
Upon which walk high heels and Reeboks
Dancing to reggae
Bob Marley - a dead hero
Few illuminated
hearts
Scattered like stars through the masses
Beauty remains
In the form of hope
Transformation
Today and tomorrow merging into one
A fight
Not yet begun
Simmering beneath the surface
Of a sleeping city
Beauty shines
In the face of a child
The echo of a gun
Footsteps to the mosque
Opening the book at dawn
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© Copyright by Velma Cook
