This is where you came from, they told me.
Your roots entwined with those of
olive groves and fig trees,
date palms, and men.
Roots entrenched within
tombs of meadows and desert springs
that illuminate the heavy and lonesome night
and soften the earth beneath our knees.

This is where you came from.
Hundreds of years ago, a man named after
the darkness of the night
and his mother’s dream.
He roamed the desert feeding the poor
with a single grain of barley and remembrance of Allah.
He quenched their thirst by drawing water from rocks
and love for the Beloved ﷺ from their hearts.

This is where you came from.
A thousand miles away, children clutching their forebears’
wooden slates reciting the Holy Qur’an
and waiting for the mue’zzin’s call.
Men sat in mosque courtyards
in the shade of their ancestors, minarets and the moon,
in gardens of joy and remembrance resilient to illusions
of time and space. This is where you will return.