RAY
A poem by Ibtisam Barakat

There is a ray
In the word prayer

Do you see it?

I hold onto it
With my soul

Until I reach the court
Of God

Where everyone
At all times

About all matters

Can have a hearing. . .

Do you hear me?

And the judge I discover
Is me!

Have I been true
To the desires

Put in my heart
Like seeds

By the hand of the one
Who hung that fruit
In me

Have I unwrapped
My presents

Moment by moment
Or let them wither
In Waiting

Knotted with the ray
Of an unsaid prayer . . .

My question to you:

What kind of tree
Are you?

What kind of fruit

On the open t-ray of time

The forever feast

In the garden of humanity

Ibtisam Barakat 2010

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