Some poems really aren't poems at all, but observations of life as it happens around me. Such is the case here--I witnessed the scene below on a bus ride to JB's place. It's not often one sees a theological discussion break out on the CTA, much less among children. Maybe that's why it stuck with me long after I got off the bus. Maybe that's why I wrote it down later.
The Sheridan Road bus passes a
parked van at Wilson Avenue. On
its side is multi-colored lettering:
"There is no other God but Allah."
Three children on the east side of
the bus read the words and repeat
them--aloud, slowly. "Allah is just
their word for God," the eldest
of the three says, stretching her
neck to keep the van in sight for
as long as her eyes could see it.
"But it says there's no other
God but Allah," the youngest
answers. "Doesn't that mean
that is the only version of
God that's right?" The middle
child shakes her head. "They
just don't understand. Nobody
knows for sure which God is
the only God. That truck is
wrong." The eldest leans back
as far as she can to catch one
last glimpse of the van, but
slumps back in her seat again
when she figures out it's gone.
"But if nobody knows for sure,
the sign back there could be right."
Across the aisle, a little boy who
had been chanting "California!
California!" now inclines against his
mother, singing "Mommy, I know
Allah! Mommy, I know Allah!"
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