One Small Miracle In Gaza

Present

"Allahu Akbar," I whisper, lifting my hands to my side, and bending at the waist.

It is not an embarrassment, yet my skin prickles, and I keep my voice low. I don't want Karim to hear. He has heard many of my prayers, but today is different. It is my last.

"Glory to You, Oʾ Allah, with Your praise. Blessed is Your name, Exalted is Your Honor. There is no deity besides You."

I have prayed this prayer five times a day for the past ten years, yet the words still sear me. No deity besides you. Tears spring to my eyes. I have prayed so long, so faithfully. Will he forgive?

"I seek refuge in Allah from the accursed devil."

I pronounce every word. I need it so badly. In a few minutes, it will be the only thing I have.

"In the name of God, The Beneficent, the Most Merciful."

Oh please be merciful, I pray.

My skin continues to prickle as I recite Surat al-Fatiha.

But even as I do, my mind again wanders to Yasser; his terrified eyes, his hands reaching out towards mine and me pushing him back. The weight is far more than I can bear, and there's a hitch in my voice as I continue my prayer.

A strange, sad desperation has been eating at me. Soon, it will consume me.

I repeat what I have repeated for the last two months:

"And ˹remember˺ when Moses said to his people, 'O my people! Surely you have wronged yourselves by worshiping the calf, so turn in repentance to your Creator and execute the calf-worshippers among yourselves. That is best for you in the sight of your Creator.' Then He accepted your repentance. Surely He is the Accepter of Repentance, Most Merciful."

I finish the prayers, still a strange agitation in my soul. Think not of those as dead who are killed in the way of Allah. Nay, they are alive, with their Lord, and they have provision. I repeat this Aya to myself for the thousandth time, but it doesn't help. It should. It always does. But this time, it feels like there is cotton between my ears. Karim was right - I am afraid to die.