Why am I empty
Of men who pledge loyalty
To their Lord, the Most High?
Where are my friends, where are they?
Please, where are you, show yourselves.
What have I done wrong to be forsaken?
Please, what have I done wrong?
Have I become a place of filth?
Or a house of eternal silence
To be visited at moments
of painful exit or only on occasion?
Where are they? Are they no more?
Why are these rows empty?
Have their ears been ripped off?
Did they not hear the echo of the caller?
‘Come to Prayer, Come to Success’,
Have they lost consciousness?
Were my companions imaginary?
Were they just an illusion, a dream?
I think they were here days ago.
No dull moment, we were friends
They occupied my rows.
Bowing, prostrating, submitting their ego
to their Lord with saintly souls.
Who has robbed my friends of their souls and turned them against me?
Please, if you meet my friends tell them I miss them.
Tell them, spiders have taken their rows from the roof,
They have built cobwebs and roam about like kings.
Tell them, beetles and ants have occupied their shelves.
They rejoice all about on them,
And feed on the heavenly books.
Please, tell my friends that I miss them.
The poem “Tell My Friends I Miss Them’’ reflects the voice of the mosque after its peak. The silent whispers of the mosque to itself. A sudden cry of emptiness and loneliness, echoing at its forsake by its friends and the need for them to revive the spirit of worship and togetherness they portrayed during the month of Ramadan.
The sensation that sweeps the world in Ramadan is not only felt by humans. It affects the animals, plants and by extension, inanimate things. If they were to talk, we would be astonished by their ecstasy. As sincere Muslims weep at the disappearance of Ramadan, so do they.