Calling Allah ~ ‘Ismu ’l-’A‘ẓam
‘Ismu ’l-’A‘ẓam
by Katherine Alosi Okumu
You are called Al-Alim, the all-knowing one
Do you anticipate the persecution of your people?
You are called Al-Baseer, the all-seeing
Can you see the hatred boiling from the mouths of the militant?
You are called Al-Khabeer, the all-aware one
Accusations slice the ears and hearts of innocents
You are called As-Sami’, the all-hearer
Violence cuts the song of worship from the villager
You are called Al-Ba’ith, the infuser of new life
They have turned the commoners to martyrs
You are called Al-Muhaymin, the preserver of safety
While we lose our daughters and our fathers
You are called Al-Haadi, the provider of guidance
Guide us towards a righteous path
You are called Al-Jaami’, the assembler of scattered creations
Our lives forfeit to a citizenship in heaven
You are called Al Muntaqim, the avenger
Inflict your retribution on the heart and mind of Myanmar
You are called Al-Adl, the embodiment of justice
Justice in this life and the afterlife for all lives
In Week 1, we discussed the 99 names of Allah and their appearance in artistic renderings of Allah’s power and glory. Meant to be read allowed, the poem recalls the power of aural recitation, particularly when reciting the Quran or speaking the name of Allah.
The title of the poem, ‘Ismu ’l-’A‘ẓam, translates to, “the most supreme and superior name.” In some Sufi mystical traditions, this name is said to be the most powerful and, if spoken, will be answered with great intensity by Allah. Individuals have been deported/faced years of prison for delivering teachings about Sufism, accused of preaching.
This poem was inspired by the ongoing persecution faced by Muslims in the Rakhine State of Myanmar and explores introductory components of Islam introduced in Week 1 of the course. The inspiration for this poem stems from the emotional intensity of discussing the history of Islam in a predominantly Buddhist state in the office I work within, The Harvard Foundation for Intercultural and Race Relations. I felt a sense of powerlessness; there is only so much an institution can do, particularly when constricted by both bureaucratic forces and one’s own awareness of the past results of Western influence.
In the piece, I invoke 10 names of Allah to articulate details of suffering: lack of earthly citizenship, accusations of nature, and physical violence. The power of aural recitation is further emphasized by lines that refer to the silencing of voices and the context of the silencing of Rohingya Muslims in Myanmar.