When the Imam Cried

Sumayya loved taraweeh, standing shoulder to shoulder with neighbors while the masjid glowed like a lantern. On the twelfth night of Ramadan, the imam's voice trembled during a verse about mercy. A tear slid down his cheek, silver in the light.

Sumayya had never seen a grown man cry. She tugged her father's sleeve and whispered, "Is he sad?" Her father shook his head softly. "Sometimes hearts overflow when they hear Allah's words."

Sumayya listened more closely. The imam did not stop leading prayer. He breathed, continued, and the congregation swayed like wheat in a field. Afterward, children received dates and small toys for finishing another night.

Sumayya approached the imam with a drawing of the masjid. "Your voice was beautiful," she said. He smiled and wiped his face. "The Quran is a letter from Allah. Even imams feel shy and grateful reading it."

That night in bed, Sumayya hugged her mushaf and whispered thank you. She learned that tears are not only for pain. They can be for love, for Ramadan nights, and for words that touch the heart like rain on dry soil.