With the distance of planes in the sky

Between me and my daughter

I dwell in her photos

And all my happiness is remembrance

Listen, o Nashwa

As the breeze carries to you what my heart says:

Dressed all in white

With an orange-coloured hijab

-You remeber the day?-

I took you to the mosque

To join your first

Friday prayer

And as everyone rose

At the takbir

You, my love

Were peacefully asleep

I put you down

In front of me

Along the lines of praying men

So I faced you, my daughter

When I faced the qibla

But no one objected

And my heart objected the least

I carried you home in my arms

And you didn't wake up

For a moment

All the way through

Till we reached home

By then I was tired

And the sun of the noon

Laughed in ardent sarcasm

When at the moment I went to rest

You woke up

(And everyone knows: with my dauhter awake

There can be no rest any more)

At the evening prayer

Under the singing skies

Of a sub-saharan Ramadhan

You rose to shout the takbir

Before the Imam could open

His mouth

And some of us followed you

While others chose to follow

The shaikh

Who led the congregation

As you recited an aya

None of us recognised

And that was revealed, I believe

Only

To you

And then decided to conclude

After the first half

Raka'a

"As-Salamu 'alaikum

War-rahmatu'llah!"

You paved up and down

The rows of the congregation

In prayer

Whispering into their ears: "Allahu

Akbar"

And though they said:

Why should one bring to the mosque

A little girl

At that age

When I hid in a corner

I saw the prophet smile

When you prayed

And Allah was amused

By the innocence of

Your charm

If ever

There should be

One prayer of mine

YOU accept:

Let visa be banned

Let a man speak out what

He feels

Let me be

What I am

Let my heart's caravan

Move in freedom

Let me be

With my daughter ---

(My heart is enflamed with love

For Fatima's children

By the burning cry of the People of the House

With love

I call upon you)