PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A day at Arafat 

In low spirits this morning 

Travelling east from the city of tents 

8 miles, 2 hours and a bus 

That struggled to pick speed 

I looked out 

The barren terrain stretching far 

As I could see 

The words resonated again and again 

You are invited as God’s special guest 

No one else may enter unless He Desire’s 

The plains of Arafat 

The bus and my thoughts came  

To a sudden halt 

I stepped out  

In the midst of the sultry heat 

To be greeted surprisingly  

By a gentle breeze 

And beyond the entrance to the lush lawns 

I could see colourful tents 

Pilgrims in white praying peaceful and calm 

A faint smell of roses and aroma of tea 

It was so serene 

My heart cried out of humility 

For I had walked in  

Carrying the burden of my deeds 

Seeking forgiveness 

But the load had been lifted 

I stood under the shade of a tree 

And cried like a baby 

Till I could no more 

Ask no more 

I wanted the day to never end  

But had to leave  

For that is the commandment 

Light as a feather I boarded the bus 

And looked back a last time  

Orange yellow dusk swept 

Over the dust laden horizon 

Behind the granite hill of Mercy 

Sun too bid farewell 

To the millions gathered 

In hearts of hearts I knew 

The place, the time, the surroundings 

Green is the colour of paradise