Different Ways to Pray
There was the method of kneeling,
a fine method, if you lived in a country
where stones were smooth.
The women dreamed wistfully of bleached courtyards,
hidden corners where knee fit rock.
Their prayers were weathered rib bones,
small calcium words uttered in sequence,
as if this shedding of syllables could somehow
fuse them to the sky.
There were the men who had been shepherds so long
they walked like sheep.
Under the olive trees, they raised their arms—
Hear us! We have pain on earth!
We have so much pain there is no place to store it!
But the olives bobbed peacefully
in fragrant buckets of vinegar and thyme.
At night the men ate heartily, flat bread and white cheese,
and were happy in spite of the pain,
because there was also happiness.
Some prized the pilgrimage,
wrapping themselves in new white linen
to ride buses across miles of vacant sand.
When they arrived at Mecca
they would circle the holy places,
on foot, many times,
they would bend to kiss the earth
and return, their lean faces housing mystery.
While for certain cousins and grandmothers
the pilgrimage occurred daily,
lugging water from the spring
or balancing the baskets of grapes.
These were the ones present at births,
humming quietly to perspiring mothers.
The ones stitching intricate needlework into children’s dresses,
forgetting how easily children soil clothes.
There were those who didn’t care about praying.
The young ones. The ones who had been to America.
They told the old ones, you are wasting your time.
Time?—The old ones prayed for the young ones.
They prayed for Allah to mend their brains,
for the twig, the round moon,
to speak suddenly in a commanding tone.
And occasionally there would be one
who did none of this,
the old man Fowzi, for example, Fowzi the fool,
who beat everyone at dominoes,
insisted he spoke with God as he spoke with goats,
and was famous for his laugh.
I chose Different Ways to Pray for my second literary analysis. I chose this poem because I felt like everyone can find a way to relate to one of the stanzas. Each stanza gives the reader an idea of how some people like to worship, or ask God/whoever they believe in to listen. I think that the poem mostly talks about people in Palestine, but it also makes references to America. The stanzas do not really follow any pattern in terms of rhyming. "There were those who didn't care about praying. The young ones. The ones who had been to America." I think this line shows how some people just take for granted what they are given, or where they manage to get in life. The line after that talks about how the young tell the old that they are wasting their time by praying. It's almost a slap to the face of the elderly/people still in Palestine. Going to America is the ultimate dream for many, they spend day and night wishing, hoping, and praying that they can find there way to America. So for the young people to tell the old ones to "stop wasting time praying" it's a huge slap in the face, because praying might be all they have. "The old ones prayed for the young ones." This line to me represents the differences in culture. In America praying is not typically a daily routine for many who were born here. Many Americans only seek God when they are in need. But in a country like Palestine, children learn from a young age to always seek out Allah. So for the old to pray for the young is kind of like the elderly hoping and praying that their loved ones who find their way to America do not lose everything that they were taught.
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