Ramadan: Muslims and their Forgotten Empathy

Youth Club Blog

Brilliant piece of poetry submitted by a sister.

Today while making Iftari, a sudden image struck me,

As I fried the Pakorey,

And brewed the tea.

Somewhere, a boy sits under a tree,

Staring at his mud caked hands; holding a bruised knee.

And the sound of a gunshot echoes again,

And he gets up and runs, forgetting his pain.

Back there in Homs, clinging to dear life,

Who knows who fasts, and still survives?

I shake my head and set the plates,

The spoons and glasses, and the dates,

And as I pour cold water in a jug,

I am reminded of the water shared, and a cherished hug,

From a Palestinian girl, some years ago.

Through a forced smile behind tears that flowed,

She held my hands just to say:

“Do remember us, whenever you pray.”

And finally when the call for prayer is heard,

I gaze at…

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