Isha in Medina

As I hang snugly from the rough canvas of your bag,

the silky threads of my tassel swing lightly in the cool night breeze.

The bright light from the full moon shines radiantly on me,

emitting my clear reflection on the smooth white marble of the Mosque.

As you walk inside amidst all the hustle and bustle

from Muslims preparing for Isha prayer,

you sit on the rich red carpet and remove me slowly from your bag,

and place me gently on your cream-colored abaya.

I sit soundly on your lap, waiting for you to hold me;

to use your soft fingers to roll me swiftly to the next crystal bead.

I get excited as the azan is called loudly through the speakers.

The sound vibrates against me, sending shivers through the white thread.

You wrap me thrice around the supple skin of your tiny wrist,

and I wait patiently for the delicate touch from your fingers.

As you silently whisper verses from the Quran,

I wait patiently, my anticipation growing stronger with each passing second.

When you kneel on the ground before Allah and place your hand on the soft Persian fabric,

the sweet scent of Jasmine athar fills me with delight.

As you reach the end of your prayer, and remove me from your wrist,

I am in bliss.

When Muslims get up and walk away after finishing their last duas,

I am in awe, bewildered by your remembrance of Allah.

I am honored when you use me to glorify His name,

to keep your tongue wet of dhikr of Him,

to help you remember Him and to fill His love in your heart,

for it is the greatest gift I can give you.

As you silently whisper, "Astaghfirullah," with each crystal bead intertwined in your fingers,

I feel the wetness of your fresh tear splash on me, cooling me from the Arabian heat.

Then I feel warmth pulsating within me like a warm glow from the sun,

ecstatic that I am able to wash away the guilt of your sins,

that I am able to fill your heart with His divine light,

and deep within me I can almost feel the peace entering your heart.

As you get up to walk out of the mosque, tucking me in your bag,

I can see you smile down at me, and last minute, take me out

and once again wrap me thrice around your tiny wrist, and I feel the gentle

rocking of your swinging arm, as you walk.

With the moon shining radiantly on me, this time I feel its light,

beaming strongly from me, reflecting my crystal rays on the desert sand dunes.

As you humbly walk back home,

you bring me to your pink lips, and kiss me softly.

Tonight, you have brought me to heaven;

delighted I could do the same for you, my love.