TWO POEMS
TAWAF
Here's the plan. We'll go to New York. We'll go to London. We'll
go to Mecca — we'll find an uncle and I'll put a scarf on your head
and teach you the Shahada and smuggle you to the Kaaba, because
I want you to see it. We'll make a mockery of my religion just so you
can taste holy water — we'll use the same cup. I'll show you the marble
mountains. I'll show you the minarets and I'll teach you what to say
after the Adhan. We'll go Istanbul and we'll pray our different ways
in Hagia Sophia, under the twisted cathedral architecture. We'll go to
Jerusalem — enough said. We'll go to Lahore — I'll say salaam, you'll say
the rest. Take me to Bodh Gaya. We'll take trains all through
our homeland. I'll go back to my ancestral village just for you. I'll relearn
my dying language just to get you fresh coconut water from my grandfather's farm. They'll
ask me who you are. I don't know the word for closest friend, but I'll
learn it just for you, even though it would not be even close enough to
describing the complicated loveliness of wandering us.
IN THE NAME OF GOD
Bismillah-hirrahman-nirrahim; in the name of God, the most gracious, the most merciful.
I think it must be nice to be God. Somewhere in the Quran it says that we
are meant to praise him, invoke him constantly. Say in the name of God before
you do anything. Say thanks to God whenever you finish something. You know,
I never understood the concept of not saying God's name in vain. Allah's ninety-nine
names are on my lips so often. My favorite ones are the names that contradict:
The Truth. The Trustee. The Originator. The Restorer. The First. The Last. There's
this story that imams like to tell about how every sound, even an expression of
pain, can be praising Allah. God, I wish that could be me. Imagine every noise being
in your favor. Imagine making things and being thanked for it. Every time
someone likes my writing I could cry. Imagine your scripture being memorized
by over a billion people and then being invoked, over and over. Jesus Christ.
Don't praise the bare minimum, performative activists on Twitter caution me, but
I've been a worshipper for sixteen years. I do it often, actually.
Jannah Yusuf Al-Jamil is a young Muslim-American writer from Washington, D.C who is forthcoming in the Amethyst Review and Ice Lolly Review. They enjoy researching obscure history and eating far too many sweets. They are the head literary reader of Antinarrative Zine (@antinarrativez). Learn more about them at jannahyusufaljamil.carrd.co