Ramadan in America
It’s Ramadan
and late one evening
I walk by a mosque
and hear little girls
laughing on the sidewalk,
walking in circles talking
about what they want to eat.
In America it's nice to hear
joy among our Muslims,
a counterpoint we need
in light of all the news.
I wish I had the guts to call
an old friend from Pakistan
I haven’t seen in 40 years.
He had nine children, a son
and eight daughters.
His little girls laughed
outside his house the night
we had come for dinner,
a chorus like the one
I heard again tonight
outside that mosque.
I’d like to ask him
what’s happening
in our world but why
embarrass both of us.
Why ask a question
neither one of us
can answer.
Donal Mahoney
It’s Ramadan
and late one evening
I walk by a mosque
and hear little girls
laughing on the sidewalk,
walking in circles talking
about what they want to eat.
In America it's nice to hear
joy among our Muslims,
a counterpoint we need
in light of all the news.
I wish I had the guts to call
an old friend from Pakistan
I haven’t seen in 40 years.
He had nine children, a son
and eight daughters.
His little girls laughed
outside his house the night
we had come for dinner,
a chorus like the one
I heard again tonight
outside that mosque.
I’d like to ask him
what’s happening
in our world but why
embarrass both of us.
Why ask a question
neither one of us
can answer.
Donal Mahoney
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