Picture those Muslims in fields, looking out, holding tight to memories of the past, reaching out to visions of the future. Did they foresee Eids bold and gentle? Eids loud and loving? Did they see their descendants—see you and me? Did they see us all someday free? I can almost hear their whispered wishes— duas spoken in the fields each Eid. Say “ameen” to those prayers, all our voices as one.
