The Qur’an’s Lament

(Mahirul Qadri)

They lift me to their eyes, then consign me to a niche
Or frame me in a locket, or rinse me for a potion
A satchel of silk and brocade,
And soaked in perfume becomes my cell
And as if by parrots and mynahs trained to talk
My words are intoned in mere recitation.
When disputes arise and a solemn oath is sworn,
They need me, so they take me out.
There’s no assembly without my recitation.
But hearts remain cold and eyes stay dry
Lies outstrip truth and evil beats good
And for each smile I yield uncounted tears.
They claim faith in me while obeying alien codes
So to harass, and revile me too.
Though all festive gatherings are open to me
I am there only as the sole victim.