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poetry


MY MOTHER IS A MUSLIM
by
Merita Ljubanovic

She does wudhu

Letting the holy water from Upstate

Flow through the faucet onto her skin

Washing away the cells of sins

With a godly hand

She hasnít even recited verses yet.


Her hijab is starched

Crisp and white

Framing her somber face

If there were saints in Islam

Her face would decorate mosques

From Medina to Istanbul


She sees the face of God

Behind her closed eyelids

Her lips are fluttering

Up and down

From surah to surah


She moves herself effortlessly

From one position to the next

Hands to chest

Head to the floor

Without a thought


Iím bothered just by watching her

Do these things that I could never do

All the faith that I can muster up

Withers away as fast as it comes



Merita Ljubanovic is currently in her senior year of high school at the Academy of American Studies. She comes from a traditional Albanian family that constantly inspires her poetry. This is her first publication in a literary magazine.



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