| Tuesday, 06 October 2026 | Print
At that exact moment,
I saw Prophet Abraham
smashing the idols
or the temple.
I found no role to suit me in the scene
except that of the grand statue.
I felt its fear,
before the “Father of Mankind” chose it,
metaphorically attributing the sin to its name.
: I am the statue.
I did not know what was happening
beyond the borders.
I did not know he was the Prophet.
All I used to see
were humans weeping and laughing beneath me,
so I would thank the one who sculpted me
and tell him:
Every day they ignite the fires
and praise my name,
whenever I triumph over the flames
and survive,
seeing myself as a reflection of them,
of the smaller statues,
and of the sculptor.
Suddenly… I found him before me,
his arm growing long,
searching for wisdom
with a blind axe.
I wished he had started with me.
He left me to watch the icons shatter,
and placed the weapon of slaughter upon my shoulder.
Suddenly, the crowd multiplied,
and everyone’s arms grew long.
They vanished from my sight,
then they returned,
cursing me… while weeping for the Prophet.
Copyright@Sayed Abu Leila
Posted 11:06 pm | Tuesday, 06 October 2026
globalpoetandpoetry.com | Faruk Ahmed Roni
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