Wael Abdelgawad's Blog, page 6

ISNA 54 and My Daughter

I’m at ISNA 54 in Chicago, where I spoke about the power of fiction to challenge stereotypes and broaden people’s horizons, and in particular to influence the American view of Islam and Muslims – and where of course I promoted my novel, Pieces of a Dream. Umm Zakiyyah, a popular author, was originally scheduled to be my co-speaker but could not attend. At the last minute I found two other published authors to share the stage.

Najiyah Maxfied (author of Sophia’s Journal) is enthusiastic and kn...

Appearance: ISNA 54 in Chicago, Saturday July 1st, 2017

If you’re attending this year’s ISNA convention in Chicago this weekend, drop by room 25 on Saturday at 1:30 pm. I’ll be speaking about the role of fiction in changing the public’s perception of Islam and Muslims. I’ll also be signing copies of my book, Pieces of a Dream.

Poem: Welcome to California

Looking for gold in the Golden State
nuggets are piled on other men’s plates
and they’ll burn you out at half past eight
welcome to California.

Looking for love at the edge of the West
running out of time, can’t catch my breath
liars and players walk abreast
welcome to California.

Lord don’t make me a player too
I’m not staying, just passing through
On my way to find You, to love You
beyond California.

* * *

Wael Abdelgawad
June 20, 2017
Fresno, California

Poem: Love You Right

The Northern Lights.

I’ll love you right next time.
I won’t be a mime,
split down the line.
tongue snagged like a carp.
I’ll open my heart
like breaking spring ice.
I won’t hide my eyes.
I’ll rise in your sight
and it won’t be a tunnel of light
but a burst, arms high,
voice like a song.
I’ll take your hand and you’ll hear
the secret sound,
the rumored paradise.
I’ll show you the world
inside and out. I’ll kiss you
until you shout,
or laugh like a child.
I will carry you
like the currents of t...

I guess I’m not enchantingly handsome after all

Me in Panama with Salma, 2007.

Wael Abdelgawad | WaelAbdelgawad.com

At a Muslim community center fundraiser tonight, I listened intently as the speaker (Alaeddin Al-Bakri), who stood at the far end of the hall, spoke about the meaning of the month of Ramadan. The room was roughly segregated, with men on one side and women on the other.

I noticed that a few of the women at the table facing mine were watching me intently. I focused my gaze on the table in front of me, but every time I looked up...

I Still Believe

By Wael Abdelgawad | WaelAbdelgawad.com

I’ve seen the highs and lows of human nature. I’ve lost friends. I’ve been in love and had my heart shattered. I’ve been so lonely and desperate for someone to talk to that I would have held a conversation with an ant if it would have listened.

After all that, I still believe in love, dreams, friendship, guidance, the future, and the fundamental goodness of the human heart. Thinking this way, believing this way, is a choice. I make this choice again an...

Poem: You Are a Forest

You are a forest
and I’m lost in your depths,
surviving on faith.

You turn your verdant face to the sun,
steaming, harboring new life,
cruel and magnificent.

Here, beneath the leaves,
it’s dark as a plum,
all shadows and lines

and I cannot find my way.
Perhaps I could stay
in a quiet spot. I’d be no bother.

There’s a pond where lilies float,
and the roar of a cat from afar.
Show me how to love you,

because after all these years
I’m still wandering your paths,
searching for a clearing
in your...

Sleepy Salma: “I can’t accept this.”

Salma.

By Wael Abdelgawad | WaelAbdelgawad.com

We’re in the middle of the Muslim month of Ramadan, during which we fast from dawn to sunset. My daughter Salma, who will be eleven soon, is fasting her second year. Last year she got through it easily, but this year she’s having a hard time, which I think has more to do with the way her general attitude has changed in the last year than anything else. I wake her up very early each morning – around 3 am – to have suhoor, which is the pre-dawn mea...

Poem: To Hold You

To hold you in my arms
once in a hundred years,
to feel your warmth and breath,
your frailty and strength, your breast
rising and falling against mine,
I’d trade half my life. I’d give up
a valley of gold, never grow old,
smash the clocks and bend my bones,
live on noodles and rice,
forfeit a Pulitzer prize,
die unknown.
Forget love, respect, friendship,
food and a bed.
I claim the nightmares in my head,
the ghosts on Gettysburg Avenue,
the years in a cold or hot cell,
the chest-breaking lon...

Poem: Water and Dust

Ya Rab (O Lord),
I am just
water and dust
moved by a breath.
I wander and return,
but discern
only what I touch.
How could I grasp
the path
without You?

Wael Abdelgawad
August 14, 2013