by F. Abdul Qadir C.

Old Umm Muslimah lived in a hut
It had a thatched roof and walls made of mud.
She woke up before dawn
And read the Qur'an,
Offered her salah,
The mother of Muslimah...

She milked the cows and made some tea,
Gave some bread to Abu Muslimah leaving for the field.
She scrubbed the floor,
And mended the door,
Fed the chickens and made the pancakes,
Then she left with the laundry to wash at the lake.

Umm Muslimah was worried lest
Her Muslim sisters would fail The Test.
So while washing her clothes, she spoke to all present
Reminding them of the Message that Allah had sent.
She spoke about the Prophet, she called them to Islam.
She called them to the Truth, away from haraam.

There were a few who laughed and mocked.
But greater was the number of women who flocked
To understand the Qur'an, to learn to read the salah
At the house of Umm Muslimah
Which now turned into a place of learning
For the women and children, who for knowledge were yearning.

Years rolled by, time flew past
Poor Abu Muslimah did not last.
And our old Umm Muslimah sat alone
Watching young girls passing by her home,
Laughing and talking, no trace of modesty
Hijab was missing, so was their chastity.

Sad and tired, she closed her eyes
Thinking of young Muslimaat, she deeply sighed.
Nothing was important, not even family
All that mattered was I and me.
They wanted to look good, be tall and slim
Allah was forgotten, so was the Book sent by Him.

No one came to the lake anymore for washing
They'd bought home that clothes cleaning machine.
The hut where once people came to learn
Now belonged to a woman, old and stern.
She preached about Allah and Judgement Day,
Gawd, so old fashioned! I'll stay away.

Umm Muslimah's eyes filled with tears
Her heart was gripped by a sudden fear.
Will these be the women to build the next generation?
Will these be the mothers of the Muslim nation?
She wiped the tears rolling down her wrinkled cheek
Prayed for the Ummah and went to sleep.

© 2004