This route through
market glossy, colored.
leads to mosque at
length, hazy, blurred.
I walk unknown paths
tightly holding Quran.
From worldly music
I strive to decipher Azan.
Surrounded by souls
as if they will never die.
I often visit graveyards
to hear someone cry.
On streets I pass by
women veiled, unveiled.
My soul is weak, teachings
of prophet is shield.
Idols charms me with
words hypnotizing, strong.
I love Sange-Aswad, I stand
'tween right and wrong.