His Voice That Stops

There sitting at the kitchen table
not knowing what time it is
Suddenly surprised by an unrecognized voice,
that of a young boy
an age of eleven or twelve, I presume.
I stand up quickly and walk to the sink,
The boy's voice loudly and confidently projected
through that of a microphone.

His love of God I hear in his call, His love of God I hear in his voice,
His desire to do something good I hear from his soul.

His fitra (nature) unpolluted by the evil, by the gimmicks of an unruly environment.
His innocence I listen to. His innocence and sincere faith in God. His love of God making me cry.
The most beautiful recitation of the Adhan (the call to prayer) by a youngster I have ever heard.
His parents, a parent, or another elder likely having brought him here.

The boy's call called me to my responsibility, to my duty.
A very good thing the adult brothers letting a young boy call the Adhan.

I want to meet this boy. I wish to know his name. Who is he? I want to find him. If I do, I'll tell him, You did a fantastic job. God is proud of you. I think you're near to Him.

I cry now thinking of another young boy who doesn't call the Adhan because he doesn't know how. He hasn't been taught how. He hasn't been taught how by his parents. He hasn't been taught how by the community. He hasn't been taught how by his school.

I cry but not long because like the young boy reciting the Adhan or calling us to prayer, the other young boy who doesn't know how to belongs to God and is in His good care and God the Most Just, the Most Loving takes the best care of all of His belongings.

I cry but not long because the young boy's Adhan or call called me to or reminded me of my responsibility to the other young boy and to another young boy.

written February 4, 2018