A Poem
I have heard a story old,
Of vicious, belligerent men
Kept away from our world
By a wall that’s strong as ten
Every day, I am told,
They strike at it and when
The sunlight turns to pink from gold
End their hard work then
The morning comes; the wall still holds
Like they did not begin
Escape they must, so as they tolled
Before, they axe again
Curiously, the cracks do fill
Every single day
Every broken edge is mended
To much of Gogs’ dismay
It will be so, a narration goes,
Till End of Time and Day
Until one day a wiser one
Will have a thing to say
“In sha Allah,” [If God Wills]
“The wall will break today”
And if God shall will it then
There will be no delay
Gog, Magog will roam around
Thirsty as the clay
Oceans, seas, rivers — all
They’ll drink what comes their way
I stand where these brutal beings
Are miles and miles apart
Or I am fooled and perhaps
They are not very far
I, too, exist behind a wall
I try to break apart
Not lead or brass, this wall contains
But pebbles many small
Of doubts, of sins, of temptations
Such evil they are all
Every day with weapons mine
I try to hit the wall —
An argument; a prayer rote;
All skeptical assaults
How weak! How weak! How hollow, mean!
My barren wherewithals!
It’s no surprise when I wake up
The wall survives them all
Perhaps one day I shall be wise
Wise enough to try again
This time not with hand but heart
With weapons with which All began
“In sha Allah,” [If God Wills]
“The wall will break the same”
And if shall God will it then
I will be not detained
All walls shall break, all truths unfurled
That ought to be a worthy end
When I shall step in the Real World
My thirsty clay, too, shall be quenched
By: Tanzeela Anis
