Bestowed upon her, on the day of her birth,
In all of nature´s colours, of sky, leaf & earth,
Spun in tattered silk, of spider´s old homes,
Stitched with blessing, of A´llah´s gold domes.
It was where, as a child, she learned to pray,
Where, to her God, all her secrets she´d say,
Asking for a good man & the babies to come,
It was her mat of refuge, beneath ebbing sun.
She & her prayer mat, both fading with age,
Book of prayers & stories, upon every page,
Of kind wishes granted & old sins dissolved,
Her mat of prayer, where her life was solved.