by jessica Care moore
(On the first day of Ramadan, April 23, 2020)
There are millions
Of reasons to fast
Three of my girlfriends are expecting
The Jesus children
wearing rosaries round their necks
Praying death will leave salt city
The news repeats itself, therefore, is
No longer news
We, right across the street from Lebanon
We tout the biggest masjid in the country
We have always removed shoes
Before entering our sacred homes
Wujud our bodies clean beyond 20 seconds
Detroit hijab wrapped covered beauties
Watching them all rocking burkas, now
The projects remain the cleanest kitchens
Smells of Clorox Bleach and metal ironing boards
Creased into our daily routines
Cleanliness is next to Godliness
Sunday best Friday is Jumah
We all praying to any ancestor
Still listening
Smiles taste like tears
Songbirds begin at 4am
My friend has lost her mother
grandmother
& Aunt My best friend, her sister
Maria
I am brushing off the dust of my red prayer mat
Listening to Jon McReynolds and Kirk Franklin
I need everyone
Even black Jesus
to help get us all through this
Yes, race still matters
We are not people of color
In Detroit, we are black
Upsouth people
Ma Sha Allah
Ma Sha Allah
The call to prayer is louder
Than the death toll
The call to prayer never silenced
We never die anyway
Abiodun Oyewole reminded us
We return, we move on, we become
Psalms 23 won’t finish the day
The clocks are flying across the room
Which day is it
Whatever day you feel
Is necessary for right now Pick one.
Which day do you feel the most beautiful
What else to do with this time
‘Cept tell somebody it happened
We were alive when the world stood still
Mahogany, Ryan and Randi
Are all pregnant during a pandemic
These resilient babies won’t stop
For outbreaks Wait for it to end
Life continues
Even when we decide it is over
When humanity is finally white flagged
& all the oxygen from the Amazon
Is bottled and taxed like new shoes
The magnolia tree will still blossom
The same time every year in the backyard
All those thick colossal roots laughing
At our fragile bones
How we climb, how we dream
To be so bold as you
How our arms shadow your branches
How we wish to be songbirds worthy
Of your protection
The playing field is not playing
Nature is calling Science is searching
But spirit has this all figured out
And it’s not in any of those books
Made from dead trees
Faith is not a word It’s knowing
Belief that there is something absolutely
Beyond this place
Something that will heal the wounds
Inflicted on a continent
Sami Allahu liman hamidah
Praying 5 times a day
May not be enough
To purge the sins against the
womb of the earth
against the hungry bellies of
The chosen people
Fasting may be the only way
To clear out the noise
The sirens the gunshots the lies
No distance
Between faiths anymore
Pick a book, any holy book
We all die in the same position
Legs spread open, mothers pushing out
the next tomorrow
It doesn’t matter
how we die
Or at what speed
It only matters
what we are willing to die for
Let it be for the first cries
Let it be so the world is made
anew
Poem copyright 2020 by jessica Care moore. All rights reserved.
See more poems from jessica Care moore debuted on The Fight & The Fiddle: “Define Safety,” and “Resilient Spring.”
Read more in this issue: Interview | Critical Review | Writing Prompt
“Let it be so the world is made”