How Prayer Works: Responses

as a child,
my mother wanted me to bear Akbar.
we do not only share a common name,
we possess the same treasure – a brother.
like you, I left home to high school
and returned home to a brother who wants
to be left alone to read and watch military men.

having a brother who was the former Ameer
of the Arabic school had people paint pictures
of what they expected him to be – another me.
he was a better version—an aspiring rebel.
we share a bed and wore each other’s shoes.
his recitation of the Qur’an was better than mine.
he prayed fluently in Yoruba – I found it hard to.
we were barely distracted while we prayed
and finished as fast as we always could.
we never missed an opportunity to laugh at
people, places, objects, and memories. I never
missed the chance to remind him of how evil
a woman can be. Of how evil a woman can be.

if you don’t mind me asking,
we should meet soon with our
brother to relive these memories.
I bet we have a lot more to tell.

Tomide Abdul