Let Me Speak

A Sentiment to Ramadan

Nostalgia wafts under my breath
As I take a large gulp of air
And my hand snakes towards an alarm

A physical alarm, mind you
For the mental part of it is but a mere thought to be awakened by

The first night of many
Grogginess clouds my vision
As I become intoxicated within the sweet process of sleep
The bed beckons for comfort

Food
A snack
A meal or two
I take and unknowingly force down my throat
I sit at a kitchen table
My shadow slowly etching itself apart from a dying florescent light that hangs above me

A voice calls from afar
It makes its way closer to my ear
Baba calls to me from above

He tells me that I have but 15 minutes left to eat
And a marathon it becomes
A marathon...it becomes...
A marathon

Fifteen minutes
Fifteen to be taken for granted
Fifteen to be taken as word for:
The minutes that I have left until I must begin fasting

The minutes feel like seconds
And the day's hours feel like eternal minutes
But as the sun sets
Time melts as sweetly as chocolate
Calling for the people to break fast
And for denizens to reach for the food that readily lays before them

But though I continue to live through these long and tiring days
I cannot help but feel
The sentiment of Ramadan

For the food that lays before me
Is but an illusion in another moment of life
In another part of this tiny world
Someone looks down at an empty plate
Starves with no food to be welcomed to

Shameful I feel
Seeing travelers come and go
Eating and repeating
As I follow in their footsteps
The footsteps of the fortunate

But for a day I would like to live life
As a person who experiences the trials of Ramadan in the days where hunger is but a solemn reminder of a daily misfortune

And for the word hunger to hang onto my tongue like a hard candy
With its bitterness and its discomforting taste wrapping itself around my throat and diluting my voice
A soft spoken voice that pleads for food
A bite to eat
Water to spare

I watch people before me
Looking away from their uneaten plates of food
And I feel the aches and cramps and dry
crackling voices
of strangers in another time

A sadness wash over me as I kneel down in prayer
I hold my hands out to make duaa*
But it drowns me into a pool of remorse
And fills my cupped hands to the point where the gaps in between my fingers are but minuscule crevices that comfort the palms that beg for eternal forgiveness
And so I force myself to drink

---------------------------------------------
*Duaa is Arabic for prayer. One may make duaa to ask for forgiveness from God, success in life, good health, as well as millions of other prayers.