We Made It Home, America
5.
You took the cloth and washed my body,
whispered every grace,
“Alhamdulillah, She lived a good life.”
Loved like the moon tied to the sky,
sometimes full,
other times fallen—
but none the less,
a reminder of light.
Before you enclose me,
if my eyes are open-
shut them.
If you begin to grieve,
put your hand on my
swollen heart and recite
the salath-al-janazah.
Remember to tell yourself
If the dead could come
back and say one thing
it would be
‘I left
first, because
I was not strong enough
for the ones I love,
to leave me.’
Photo Credit: “[Multiple Exposures of the Moon, 1846-52]” by Antoine-Francois-Jean Claudet (Public Domain) via the Metropolitan Museum of Art website.
