The Girl & Her God

and when she walks past with her sack of rambutan and mango, and pomegranate seeds stuck to her fingers, with her harsh words and hungry mouth, she spills a verse from her ivory lips, “فَٱذْكُرُونِىٓ أَذْكُرْكُمْ [so remember me and i will remember you]”.

and as you watch her climb trees, sink her teeth into guavas, return home with sticky palms, she recites and recites and recites until her throat is sore and her tongue is numb, “وَٱشْكُرُوا۟ لِى وَلَا تَكْفُرُونِ [be grateful to me, never ungrateful]”.

and once she has made wūdu, her body pure and clean, she prays to her creator. oh Allah, oh Allah, oh Allah. and her creator responds. yes, my slave. yes, my slave. yes, my slave.

By Hikma Riyas