An Alternate Witness

His feet cracked as the earth
Robes tattered as roadside thistle
Caked-in dirt beneath the nails
Greasy scraggles of thin, grey hair
And rheumy eyes, fogged with years
Yet shoulders straight and strong

Chapped and cracked, his thin lips mutter
Over and over, one reminder
‘kareem, kareem—kareem, kareem’
Muttering as the beads fall
Slipping through dark fingers

The oldest elder of the village
Calls to him to sip of her tea
On wool-stuffed ticks in the sun
Staring quietly at the street
Traveler muttering, ‘kareem, kareem’
A granddaughter pouring tea

Sun creeps slowly down the sky
Flocks return from the hills
Children play soccer in the dust
Women bring their laundry in
Hens scratch and donkeys bray
And two old people sip their tea
Beads slip through crooked fingers

The sun descends, muezzins call
Fathers plod up to the mosques
Women dice and toss the salad
A slender granddaughter carries plates
To the oldest elder and her guest
Who bend and eat with a ‘bism’ullah’
Sipping sweetened tea on mint

Darkness falls, lights flicker on
Chickens roost and nannies bleat
Men with their wives, babes in arms
Toddlers clinging to their gowns
Stroll across the rocky ground
To the oldest elder’s house.

Women pull out the extra ticks
Men all press the elder’s hand
To lips and brow, and then again
‘Yumma, Mama, how are you?’
Their wives settle to one side
‘Amma, Auntie, how’s your health?’

‘Pilgrim, Uncle, welcome here
Peace and welcome in our homes
Mercy and blessings on your hands
From what direction do you come?
What news have you from beyond?’
Yet the traveler—‘kareem, kareem’—
And the elder silently sip

Prayer beads slide, eight sets
Sons, wives, elder, pilgrim
Each a gentle mantra reads
‘bism’ullah, mercy, compassion
Thank the divine, lord of all
There is none but the one’
Under it all, ‘kareem, kareem’

Babies nurse and fall asleep
Once again, muezzins cry
‘There is none but the one’
The shouts of playing children fade
The breeze has died, all is still
Except the traveler, ‘kareem, kareem’

Hoisting toddlers, babes in arms
Two by two, young parents depart
‘Go with peace, wake well
You do us honor, pilgrim’
As he nods, ‘kareem, kareem’
Beads clacking rhythmically

The last young wife, before she goes
Spreads blankets, comforters
For the elder and the traveler
Sleeping in the cool night air
Still the mystic muttering
‘kareem, kareem—kareem, kareem’
The name of God is ‘generous’