Sword at the Ablution Pool
In Solidarity with People of Paris and Beirut
 

There is a sword in this house
Which Father says is a relic
From ancient times.
I saw it at the sanctuary of the ablution pool
And thought that it was a harmless emblem
On the rich green banner of Allah.

One evening when breaking the fast
We went downstairs to the ablution room.
It was a holy Night of Power [1].
The little fountain was whispering to itself.
Father washed himself at the pool
stood toward the House of God
And pressed his forehead to the prayer seal.
I stood before the boiling samovar
And the dining cloth which displayed
The plate of fried walnuts and dates,
And the dish of basil and mint with bread.
A godly vapor was rising
From the cup of hot sugar water
Ready to pass through his parched lips,
And a  hymn of brotherhood could be heard
As he was chanting verses
From his prayer book.
His eyes were shining from abstention
And everything he looked at
He would mesmerize.
I surrendered myself to all this beauty.
If my prayers were heard that night
What more could I have desired
Than this open cloth of happiness?
Then, against my will
I laid my head on his lap
And went to sleep with a heavenly dream.
Suddenly, the naked sword came to life
A holy warrior fast and clever
Whirled it around
In an unending dance
And from the edge of his long robe
An army of the faithful rose up.
The soothing murmur of the samovar
Turned into fearful cries of holy raids;
The rich colored tea, to blood;
And the lustful pieces of date,
To the people's living hearts.
In this great clamor
I recognized Father's voice
Shouting at this time:
“Fight in the name of Allah!
Fight in the name of Allah!”
I trembled
And my dream was over.
Leaning against the velvet cushion
Father seemed to be asleep.
I took a date and left him alone
In his nightmare.

At this ablution pool
There hangs a sword.
Father says it is a relic
From ancient times.

Majid Naficy
January 4, 1987

[1] A night or nights in the fasting month of Ramadan in which prayers are heard.