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Not of this world

The kids burst into the room, puncturing my sleep and yanking me back into the world. I am momentarily disoriented, and slowly realize from the faint light coming in from the window that the sun has just set. I hear the second call to prayer, and then a voice begins to recite – very softly – from the mosque nearby.

It is a sound not of this world. From where I am, lying in bed while the kids play around me, it is only a distant hum, rhythmic and melodic. It is too far away for me to hear what is being recited, but it pulls at my heart.

Suddenly, another voice intrudes rudely into my reverie. A man right outside my window talks loudly, arguing with someone, swearing. This loud voice in the foreground contrasts starkly with the quiet one in the background.

The man soon goes away, and I am drawn back to the voice from the mosque. My heart yearns for that peace within the rude noise of this world. The sound is so beautiful I want to rush into the night to find it, to draw closer so I can hear what it is saying. I want to hold it in my hand, to bring its light into my heart, into my home.

It is a lantern in the middle of a dark night. A constant comforting voice in the background; a reality often muffled or overlooked, but always there.

It is a call to peace, a call to God. I get up to pray.

(May 2012)

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