Spiritual Limbo

The faces of some, grown old

Mouths shrivelled, move rhythmically to praise
Hands tremble as they count

To one hundred.

They have spent their efforts, their wealth

Their life.

Yet to my untrained eye

Their hands are empty, upturned.
Irrelevant to patient hearts, at ease

She stands at the podium
The fragility of her words carry

She shakes fervently trying

To convey a message of wisdom and truth

To stir the hearts

But they do not move

The girl I sit next to

Is my age and MSA

She is texting and tweeting about

The programme today

And though there is a hijaab
Piled on top of her head

It is not the same

Spiritual limbo

Is being torn between

Aunties with scarves that cover their chins

Slim fit Abayas, brooches and sparkly things

It is standing on a broad line
And being told both sides are correct

It is knowing but being unable to accept
The former over the latter

I cry tears of the unworthy

Unable to associate with either

They stack green, plastic chairs

So I am left in a room filled with believers

Alone