Response Poem 1: On Agha Shahid Ali's 'Prayer Rug' - Aliza Bakht

Eid-Ul-Adha

My grandmother majestic

Sits on her throne in the verandah

With the butcher

Piece by piece

She examines the flesh of

The now cut and sacrificed

Dead goat.

Death to serve as a reminder

Of the kindness and justice

Of the almighty

Under whose name

A hundred hungry will feed

On this auspicious day.

I somewhat remember seeing

My first dead goat.

A goat me and my brother

Fed and played with

For two days before

Watching its head get severed

While the other goat brayed

In the back garden.

Grieving my beloved I’d just met,

I remember asking my mother

How god could be so

Brutal.

A very long time ago

The same god had asked

An honest father

To kill his two sons

As an act to test his faith.

Conflicted and pained,

The father put his sons on the altar

And struck the axe down

With his eyes closed.

On opening them he found

His sons grinning.

Standing right next to him

With two dead sheep lying

In their place instead.

Fresh meat;

Sufficient for a succulent feast

To celebrate the miracle.