Blooming Moons: 2 Poems by Aieshah Ashfer

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ornate

[herᆞgrade 5]

“Tomorrow is Eid, so school will be closed. It’s a Muslim holdiay. Is anyone here Muslim?”

silence.

“Anyone? Does anyone know about Eid?”

followed by silence.

“Okay, then let’s move onto the rest of morning meeting.”

i gulp softly and sit hushed

because i did know about eid in fact that day

a pthalo teal kameez with shiny gold borders and ornate trim hung from my doorknob

smells of buttery sheerkhurma enveloped rooms in warmth as my mom stirred a battered pot

detailed crescent moons hung from every flat wall along with small glowing lanterns

my house was adorned with eid decorations, food, and clothing as i sat there quiet.

i knew about the way we anticipated eid, how the night before we’d barely get blinks of rest in

waiting for ginormous presents to pounce on after salah and meeting clusters of family friends

waking up that morning to the most clement sunlight that stroked our young souls

and that unabashed hasty run to the gifts that lay on the living room coffee table

i loved the way dressed up aunties beamed as they gave soft cheek kisses

the way we said ‘eid mubarak!’ to each other as we passed the phrase practically shrouding us

all conversations coming to a halt as melodious azaan reverberated through the masjid walls

lines of kameezes and kurtas stacked upon each other as the imam gets ready for salah

loved every single part of you, my religion, cherished being muslim as islam just made sense

explaining the intricacies behind topics like the big bang theory in the quran

not simply redundant prayer rather an ethical honest and clean way of life

and the encouragement of a community that surrounded me at all times

and yet i used to keep you concealed and sheathed in my heart

doubtful and scared of what kind of person i would become

in their censorious all watchful stony cold eyes if

i let you slip away loose from the cage that held you close to me

because i’ve seen what they call and do to people like us

who wear you proud around their heads and as a shield to the world

terrorist. bomber. traitor. i know those wretched names

arson. shootings. murder. i know of those horrible crimes

so i forced myself to be ashamed around the idea of being linked to you

whether it was at school with friends or anywhere in public

only truly embracing and appreciating you like i wanted to within

those safe untouched confines of my home

[meᆞgrade 11]

and to keep you a secret was my worst mistake

you were nothing but the truth and i insisted on hiding you

keeping you away from friends who appreciated you

an internal war full of doubt that i waged myself

in that moment all the joy i’d harbored for you in secret for years was let out

and last year i sat in my chemistry class while my teacher asked

‘any of you celebrate eid and would like to tell us about it?’

this time, i raise my hand. this time, i speak.

i leave no details in my confession

i talk about that jittery feeling which invokes the night before eid

that special joy of waking up to family and salah

of filling our bellies and hearts with love and prayers

i am not ashamed to be a muslim anymore

rather i embrace and share this piece of me with the world

i am so proud to be growing up muslim

i simply wish i could have told her that she should have been proud too

festival

i drape a sheer teal dupatta redolent of

jasmine cardamom and henna around

my oval head the fabric sits carefully

as i shift around the small bedroom

bouncing off pink painted walls

i am elated and certainly look it

slicks of black kajal sits inside the slits of my eyes

my hands flushed with henna and the handiwork of my aunts

my arms adorned with golden and blue bangles

my kurta a whirlwind of sea green as it sweeps the floor

i run down those familiar yet cold white stairs

“aista, aista” my nani yells out and i fix my run

to a slow stroll as the whole family gathers around

in the living room and i finally rest my feet upon a

small brown velvet prayer mat lined with gold threads

we draw up lines on prayer mats and wait for the chorus of

whispers reverberating through the hollow in my ribs we

all mouth the same verses crafted from divinity

all travel through the same familiar motions of salah

all bodies and hearts move and pray to the same lord

and we are divinely united.

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Aieshah Ashfer is a Muslim poet strung by experiences in her motherland, India, and her homeland America along with eyes that see the world through lenses with awe and passion. She is a junior at Herricks High School, New York. She has been nationally recognized by Scholastic four times, has won the LILAC Gambone Poetry Contest, and has been published in OPUS and superfroot magazines. You’ll find her spitting the images, colors, and shapes that collect in her mind into paintings, drawings, sketches, and arranging the ideas and thoughts in her head into poems, prose, and stories.

Artist’s statement: Writing has always flowed through my blood, always fascinated me in books, and has always given me peace of mind by being a safe haven I return to. Poetry was really only introduced to me as an empowerment tool the year of the pandemic. Those two years ago, I remember feeling like my life was on hold and I had just began to start using poetry to express my emotions. After the brunt of the pandemic was over, it became a regular outlet for me to flush all my worries, feelings, and thoughts into. Poetry was something I could control and create in this world that seemed to have a control over everything. To share these personal secrets and feelings with the world sometimes can be scary– but powerful when a community agrees with these ideas. I write poetry to communicate and reveal my innermost thoughts as well as to connect with the ever-changing world around me.

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22 November 2022