"Under the Madinah Sky"

Sitting with my folded feet on my sajadah, the coolness of the marble floors of Nabawi Mosque reach my skin
From the open dome above, the cool breeze reach my face and hair, feels like the touch of silk wind

I look up at the open sky of Madinah, through the open dome of the Prophet’s mosque
I saw the dusk has getting older
The bluish sky rich with white cloud, the cloud look similar to a new falling snow
The night has come…covering the face of the burning sun
And the Madinah sky turn to its yellow red color which getting darker and darker
Then suddenly swallowed by the darkness of the night

Myself and hundreds or maybe thousand of all other women
With headscarf covering our head commence our maghrib prayer,
We pray, we kneel down and bowing to the God, the creator of all,
Asking forgiveness, offers thankfulness and begging for peacefulness
Of life both the mortal and immortal ones

Under the open sky of Madinah
As the warmness of thick Iranian carpet savoring my feet from the cold marble floor of the Prophet’s mosque, finally I found what peacefulness means…
It is not a big house full of gold
It is not a day full of laughter
It is not minutes full of company of others
Nor words full of compliments and praise
But it actually…..just
A moment …where all of us
Kneel down and bowing in the direction of Kabah
Requesting forgiveness
Offering thankfulness
Begging for peacefulness
Under the Madinah sky…with the witness of the night.

For once…nothing is matter
for once….peacefulness enters my heart
for a while …I have nothing to ask for…
and let my thought and soul rest in the peacefulness…rich with prayers

Under the Madinah Sky, as I wrote this piece.
I wish I could revisit my childhood
Where I was lucky enough to have a dream
A vivid dream where I saw a big, beautiful and tall Arabian horse galloping before me…
An a green cape of my prophet flies against the wind of the dessert…
I knees down of the ground, I could feel the ground shook by the pace of hooves against the sand…
I have no strength to look up and see the face of my prophet..
I could only bow my heard and hear the echoes of someone shouting that the Prophet is passing by…
As the sound of died down, I let the corner of my eyes saw the last glimpse of the green cape…race and fly away out of the Horizon…

I wish my Prophet is still here now..
Not to see his modest mosque has grow so big and beautiful, dazzle with gold and marbles and the latest technology of a mechanic dome
But to see…that after all this time…thousands…years and more…
It still full of his followers..
All bowing to God…and uttering shalawat for him
Eager to get the mercy of
Hoping to the forgiveness
And begging to get the peacefulness
Of and from Allah…
The creator and the owner of all …

The sound of Adzan interrupted my writing
Remind me of its time for me to stop …
And ready to start praying with others…
In one particular place on earth which could offer peacefulness of heart…

Madinah,
January 2007