Underneath

By Susan Al Hafar

Forehead pressed

into the soft fibers

of the Persian rug And I feel as if

I will dissolve into the world.

 

Now these are my words

(not memorized sounds)

And I ask…

Everything has categories, compartments.

For me, for others.

He is great.

I kneel, calves against thighs.

Low whisper, recitation, soft.

The English meaning floating behind.

Right, left, my head framed in white

soft cotton turns.

 

And then from a single point beneath,

swirling round and out,

a patch of purity grows –

like I am washed with the cleanest water

inside, out.

I feel it, above my eyes. Underneath my forehead. Down.

 

It is as if butterflies swept their silky

fluttering wings below my skin and left.

A central core of calm flows from

deep inside my chest.

Peace. This for me, is

how Islam feels.

 

Before, I went looking for answers

in the words of the writers,

but they were still

searching themselves.

By the passing of time,

man is in a state of loss.

Our capacity for thinking

was limited by our Western education.

And God knows how we are lost.

Say, ask –

You will not find paradise

in this life.

Here, everything glitters.

 

Susan Al Hafar was born in New Zealand and now lives in London. She works in marketing and has a passion for creative writing including poetry.