![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.gfdesign.co.uk\/culture\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/12\/c9a74589709dbb1f577a8098addf6a36.jpg\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Little Mosque Poems<\/strong><\/span> In my little mosque<\/span> My little mosque:<\/span> My little mosque<\/span> My little mosque is poor yet<\/span> I would like to build<\/span> I went to the mosque<\/span> My little mosque<\/span> My little mosque has a Persian carpet<\/span> Piety dictates that men enter<\/span> My little mosque used to be democratic<\/span> I miss having a mosque,<\/span> I don’t dream of a perfect mosque<\/span> Marshmallows are banned<\/span> My little mosque<\/span> I know the bricks of bigots<\/span> I love my dysfunctional little mosque<\/span> I would like to find a little mosque<\/span> My little mosque is as decrepit<\/span> I went to the mosque<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Little Mosque PoemsBy Mohja Kahf In my little mosquethere is no room for me to pray.I am turned away faithfullyfive times a day My little mosque:so meagrein…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":365,"featured_media":11858,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1660],"tags":[1726,1725],"class_list":["post-11860","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry-2","tag-islam","tag-mosque"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.gfdesign.co.uk\/culture\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11860","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.gfdesign.co.uk\/culture\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.gfdesign.co.uk\/culture\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.gfdesign.co.uk\/culture\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/365"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.gfdesign.co.uk\/culture\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=11860"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.gfdesign.co.uk\/culture\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11860\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.gfdesign.co.uk\/culture\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/11858"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.gfdesign.co.uk\/culture\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11860"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.gfdesign.co.uk\/culture\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11860"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.gfdesign.co.uk\/culture\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11860"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
By Mohja Kahf<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n
there is no room for me to pray.<\/span>
I am turned away faithfully<\/span>
five times a day<\/span><\/p>\n
so meagre<\/span>
in resources, yet<\/span>
so eager<\/span>
to turn away<\/span>
a woman or a stranger<\/span><\/p>\n
is penniless, behind on rent<\/span>
Yet it is rich in anger—<\/span>
every Friday, coins of hate<\/span>
are generously spent<\/span><\/p>\n
every week we are asked to give<\/span>
to buy another curtain<\/span>
to partition off the women,<\/span>
or to pave another parking space<\/span><\/p>\n
a little mosque<\/span>
without a dome<\/span>
or minaret<\/span>
I’d hang a sign<\/span>
over the door:<\/span>
Bad Muslims<\/span>
welcome here<\/span>
Come in, listen<\/span>
to some music,<\/span>
sharpen<\/span>
the soul’s longing,<\/span>
have a cigarette<\/span><\/p>\n
when no one was there<\/span>
and startled two angels<\/span>
coming out of a broom closet<\/span>
“Are they gone now?” one said<\/span>
They looked relieved<\/span><\/p>\n
has a big sense of humor<\/span>
Not<\/span><\/p>\n
depicting trees of paradise<\/span>
in the men’s section, which you enter<\/span>
through a lovely classical arch<\/span>
The women’s section features—<\/span>
well, nothing<\/span><\/p>\n
my little mosque through magnificent columns<\/span>
Piety dictates<\/span>
that women enter<\/span>
my little mosque<\/span>
through the back alley,<\/span>
just past the crack junkie here<\/span>
and over these fallen garbage cans<\/span><\/p>\n
with a rotating imam<\/span>
we chose from among us every month<\/span>
Now my little mosque has an appointed imam<\/span>
trained abroad<\/span>
No one can dispute his superior knowledge<\/span><\/p>\n
driving by and seeing cars lining the streets,<\/span>
people double-parking, desperate<\/span>
to catch the prayer in time<\/span>
I miss noticing, as they dodge across traffic<\/span>
toward the mosque entrance between<\/span>
buses and trucks,<\/span>
their long chemises fluttering,<\/span>
that trail of gorgeous fabrics Muslims leave,<\/span>
gossamer, the colors of hot lava, fantastic shades<\/span>
from the glorious places of the earth<\/span>
I miss the stiff, uncomfortable men<\/span>
looking anywhere but at me when they meet me,<\/span>
and the double-faced women<\/span>
full of judgment, and their beautiful<\/span>
children shining<\/span>
with my children. I do<\/span><\/p>\n
I just want roomfuls of people to kiss every week<\/span>
with the kisses of Prayer and Serenity,<\/span>
and a fat, multi-trunked tree<\/span>
collecting us loosely for a minute under<\/span>
its alive and quivering canopy<\/span><\/p>\n
from my little mosque<\/span>
because they might<\/span>
contain gelatin derived from pork enzymes<\/span>
but banality is not banned,<\/span>
and yet verily,<\/span>
banality is worse than marshmallows<\/span><\/p>\n
is fearful to protect itself<\/span>
from the bricks of bigots<\/span>
through its window<\/span>
Doesn’t my little mosque know<\/span>
the way to protect its windows<\/span>
is to open its doors?<\/span><\/p>\n
are real<\/span>
I wish I could protect my little mosque<\/span>
with my body as a shield<\/span><\/p>\n
even though I can’t stand it<\/span><\/p>\n
where my Christian grandmother<\/span>
and my Jewish great-uncle the rebbe<\/span>
and my Buddhist cousin<\/span>
and my Hindu neighbor<\/span>
would be as welcome<\/span>
as my staunchly Muslim mom and dad<\/span><\/p>\n
as my little heart. Its narrowness<\/span>
is the narrowness in me. Its windows<\/span>
are boarded up like the part of me that prays<\/span><\/p>\n
when no one was there<\/span>
No One was sweeping up<\/span>
She said: This place is just a place<\/span>
Light is everywhere. Go, live in it.<\/span><\/p>\n