Ramadhan and Me

At two,

He had no clue

When all he could do

Was eat and poo

At seven

he knew about heaven

And was terrified of hell

Before dawn he was awake

Excited to the brim

Eating according to whim

A mission of deprivation

He was about to undertake

A test of strength, a test of will

Up until lunch was served on a plate

At nine

He was doing fine

Not yet thirty, but close

“If it weren’t for asthma”,

He’d get up and boast

Yet he was still a child

Mindless and wild...

At sixteen

There were no excuses

Yet many things had changed

No longer was there a physical burden

As challenges came from a new direction

The eyes began to wander

The mind driven asunder

Focus diverted from the plan

As youth threatened to derail

The true essence of Ramadhan

Today he turns twenty two,

Challenges that lay, again differ

But the heart of it all remains the same

In the best of months he hopes and prays

That the nights are filled with tears

Not of sorrow, but regret

Of the past mistakes, he cannot forget



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