| By soapbox,
on 12-01-2005 12:14
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Views : 1023  |
Favoured : 13 |
Published in : , Poems |
Old Man at the Mosque (I never knew his name)
He was the first face I would see
Whenever I entered the mosque
I would run to greet him
But his smile would greet me first
He was my wise old friend
But his time had come to an end
And to think I never knew his name
His hands were rough and his feet were too
And I often wondered what work they used to do
(Maybe he was a farmer, a shepherd of sheep
His hands were rough and his feet were too
And I often wondered what work they used to do
(Maybe he was a farmer, a shepherd of sheep
Or maybe he worked in that local factory down our street)
Ten years I constantly saw his face
I can’t believe I never knew his name.
He taught me how to greet the people
Whether they were sitting or in the street
He said, this is the Muslims way of spreading the peace
Thus I gave him salam whenever I would see him
And I mentioned him in my Duas for he was my Mualim but I never knew his name
He was a man who looked like he had traveled
I could see it in his eyes
For when he was in deep thoughts
I saw the pages of history turning in his mind
To think I knew him for so long
Just imagine what his name was
But what is in a name? a word or two
It does not really represent you
Instead he left me with a better thing
An example of a simple, kind and caring Muslim
Can you believe I never knew his name?
By Mustafa Hameed
Last update : 12-01-2005 12:14
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