Daily Times

When I walk at night alone

in the deep wadis of her sobs

or when I know that each time I drive fast

or laze the reply to her letters;

when I know that at midnight

she sits up praying to her God

to keep me warm and whole,

when I know that she will still bless me

though I give her eyes cause to tears,

when I know that all my warts and ways

will turn to gold at her simple touch,

then I see through her the God she sits rotating her

beads to and then I know that her God

will always be there for me to reach out and touch.

The writer is the Ibn Khaldun Chair of Islamic Studies, School of International Service, American University, Washington, DC