Remembering Remembrance

after prayer at my house
we sit
heads down
in not so proper rows – the feet
no longer tucked beneath us
the hands keeping count -
fingers dancing
to the beads of remembrance
sung in silence
from our lips

the silence
interrupted
by a one-year-old’s
intended shrieks and kisses
(waiting patiently for salaam
to begin her play again)
by the laugh
caught in the throat
of a memory
by the continuance
of a conversation