Speak O' Niche of the Mosque

By: Sister Mardhiya

The niche in the mosque speaks by itself,
narrating a tale so merciless.
I walk closer to it;
holding my breath;
trying to hear it's narration;
" I were once a place where a man stood,
bending down in humility and prostrating to All Good.
His voice were the voice of the God;
its calmness would lighten & soothe me.
Tears of love would flow from him;
in an ocean of enchantment he would gently swim.
In his eyes nothing but beauty lied,
with his heart rending wails, the angels cried.
With a trembling body he would kneel down,
and in his world of supplication he would drown.
I would shake whenever he called onto his Lord,
his every call was truly given an accord.
By God; never had I heard such an painfilled voice !
my bricks would awaken and by his sound rejoice.
It were a delight to see him at every prayer,
adding to the encountership a pleasant flavour.
This beautiful sight on a morn was ended,
in the month of fasting the angel of death upon him descended.
my man laid down his head in perfect devotion;
at a sudden a devil striked his evil potion.
his thoughtful mind were cut into two;
the last I would see him; I had no clue.
He were poisoned so bitterly; yet by Islam abode;
to his killer a lesson of divine justice he showed."
His name, Ali - the moon of Islam;
His name patterened in the letters of Quran.