Daily Times

I wrote this poem for my daughter a decade ago. She now faces a serious medical situation. I request the reader to heed a father’s plea and offer a prayer for her recovery and well-being.

On Judgment Day

I stand before God

On His mighty throne

On a hot dusty plain.

Around me

Multitudes of men and women

Weepand wail and

Some look dazed.

The angels move them to one gate

Through which I glimpse blue skies and

happy people sitting by streams eating fruit

Or the other from which I hear

Tormented cries and feel the heat of gigantic flames.

With the confidence of the righteous
I walk towards the former gate.

“Hold on. Stop,” the angels cry.
“You need to be tried.
Your actions on earth judged.”

“Yes,” I say with smug confidence
“But I bring a name
that will invoke God’s mercy.”

The angels turn to God.
“Sir,” they complain.
“We cannot allow anyone in without judgment.”

God pauses for the briefest of moments
And smiles the faintest of smiles.

“It is alright,”
He says in a gentle voice.
“He is the father of Amineh –
The highest of my creatures –
A loving daughter, a caring mother,
A devoted wife and
A faithful believer.”

All pause to listen.
“Know, too,” God says,
“How highly I value ilm.
No other word is used more often
In the Quran than my name”

“Let him go,” God commands.
“He is the father of one
Who has given herself to ilm.”

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