Words of a Prisoner

Uncle I was the one who in the Masjid put your shoes on the floor out of respect so you would feel honored

Auntie I was the one who would rush to carry your shopping bags all the way to your home asking only for your dua

Sister I was the one who carried your pram down the stairs when you needed help.

Brother I was the one who stood next to you in salah

Uncle I was the one who would never miss the janaza of your loved ones making dua for them

Brother I was the one who stayed awake till the last third of the night to make dua for you

Sister I was the one who would walk your father home after Isha just so he would not worry.

Auntie I was the one who you would ask to accompany your son so that he would follow Islam

Uncle was it not my children on whose heads you would pass your hand saying MashAllah?

Auntie had you forgot that you had seen my crawling around your feet when I was young?

Sister did you know that I would stand near you on buses and tubes in case somebody offended
you so I could aid you?

Brother was it not me that would phone you just to tell you that I loved you for the sake of Allah (swt)?

Uncle was it not at your hands I learnt to read the Book of Allah (swt)?

Brother who was the person you would come to when you needed to borrow?

Sister I was the one who would buy your child sweets when they didn’t have enough money at the counter of the shop

Brother I was the one who you would call when you broke down in the late of the night

Sister I was the one who would stop other children picking on yours.


They came one day early in the morning
Broke my door and threw me to the floor
I could smell their vile breath as they pinned me down calling me names
They taped my eyes shut as they stretched out my arms while dragging me into the street
They forced their way into our bedroom and allowed my wife no covering
They accused me of many things that by Allah I did not do

They have held me for so long that I no longer know.
They pull me out to interrogate me every day
“Patience,…patience; it is from Allah.” Is what I tell myself
I watch my wife and children through a pane of glass
One hour a month
They won’t let me touch my babies
I watch as my wife fights the tears. The despair shows for everyone to see
Not knowing what to do, what to say I wonder if that hour does us more harm then good

What they do is criminal but what you did was worse…
They were my enemy but you were supposed to be my own…

Nobody came to me from among you to see me
Never once did you think about me
Was it too much to ask that you ask my wife if she has eaten?
Was it too much to ask to ensure that my children had a present on Eid?
Do your new clothes feel nice? We are given an old jumper if we beg enough
Does your food taste nice? We get cold rice and meat we don’t know what it is.
When you open your fast do you feel happy? They don’t tell us until hours later. Here day becomes night and night becomes day.
Do you talk to your loved once often? We are not allowed even a letter.

Isolation is my friend but it is also my enemy. My friend who will allow me to remember what I forgot when I was free but my enemy as I fear for my family who none will spare a second glace.

Just me and our Lord who was witness to my birth
Who shall witness my death
Who is witness to what they have done to me….


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