ON JUDGEMENT DAY
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 His mighty throne
On a hot dusty plain.
Around me
Multitudes of men and women
Weep and 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.”
