The Starved and the Furious

Starved and the furious,
The days are long and unwinding.
The first year,
After four days of fasting,
I decided that it was too hard.
My very livelihood was at stake,
Or so I thought.
I was starving and furious.
I became hungry, bored,
and sleep deprived from the early suhoors;
the smooth whispers of dua,
and the throats gulping down milk and water.
Concoctions
meant to fill,
Un-tug the clinched rope
of hunger.
The main struggle,
was refraining from unconsciously
jamming food into my mouth,
every
time
I walked through the kitchen.
Something that stays true even after
Ramadan.

The second year,
I lasted a week.
Another week
That continued to drag
On.
In class,
I couldn’t fathom thought
Or the ability to solve
Equations,
Riddles.
Instead,
I focused on
the tightening knot
In my stomach.

The days followed
With impromptu classes
Qur’an, etiquette
Islamic Studies, and enunciation.
The movement of
prayer mats,
upright bodies: side by side
the rhythmic, melodic
verses of the Qur’an
masked my hunger.

The constant wait for
Iftar,
Slowly morphed into
A want,
a need for Ramadan
to continue.

But the moon
Started waning
Towards Eid-Ul-Fitr
and the once unbearable hunger
concluded,
In exchange for sweets
and gifts.

 

Kowthar Yussuf

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