The Interim Betwixt; Real or a Lie?

Were you a capricious whim, a fallacy?
Were you an embodiment of my wants and your wants?
Of your comings and goings should I not question your verity?
The chasms of my experience with such emotional feed
is a gaping proof of error of judgements borne of deprived needs.
Time is proof, Time is a salve, Time is testing,
Every second, every minute, every hour.
May the constant questioning of my own sanity
versus a beautiful patience and a belief in all things good,
Yet again, come and sing it's soothing rhyme
allowing the chants and motions to do a slow dance,
and let the heart beat in peace,
always at the behest of it's Maker Infinite.

Such a Brief Picking of 'Nuts'

You saw the crimson in the sky and thought of me... Now I will wipe away tears at any sight of the colour crimson, or a sun setting scene somewhere, anywhere, or just a static bleeding horizon in real life or pictures. Were the raven-crows flying away from it, or into it? This shall remain a mystery, as shall knowing whether black was actually succour or just a swift and sudden unexpected cloak of painful gloom.

Demons of Their Past

All it took was a picture of you in baby blue and white.

It pierced through the cemented walls
The grave I thought was permanent, shattered open.
Rose back out Alexander the great,
Arousing the hairs on the back of everything alive
To stand up and scream
To brace themselves and shriek in agony
From unwelcome memories.
Go back to sleep please.
Go to Italy, Go back to Germany,
San Francisco, Brazil, Goa, Juhu,
Go where ever it is that love embraces you
And wear that ring proud
It shines so bright
As did the prospect of you and I once
But that was an embryo that was miscarried long ago.
The placenta has been laid down to rest
So now please let the lens of the other
Shoot you in your glamour in privacy
There is no room for this view I have of you
in my suggested feed, on the right, under a post,
or an invite of an add request from another brother.
Go away; I know you never wanted to
I pushed the doors closed and I left you screaming in the dark
But that darkness was all enveloping
And it was a salve that needed to be applied
The scrapes were blistering and the wound was deepening
The pain would never go away so the pill had to be gulped
And years later it seems the effects have begun wearing thing
So I turn to an empty page and scream into this empty night
And tell the song ringing in the background to truly fade away
For Where you are now is of no use to me.
The monsters only know how to run wild
And the torment of years ago needs to rest.
Crushing what was real and breathing
For I am not prepared to have to do it again.
I can’t. You can’t. We can’t.
It was never meant to be
So please take your baby blue and white
And leave my breath alone.
I need to let it all be faded.
No shadows. No etchings. Nothing.
The water will always haunt me
But that is also truly where I find
Some semblance of a salvation.
Ya Allah – You are The Effacer.
Please Cleanse me and Hold Me.
For you I walked away and I desperately
need You to Efface me and Love me!
Ameen.

Fighting Despair

When I look to the world it brutally crushes my hopes and tells me all about how 'this' isn't possible and 'that' will never happen. Then I remind myself of The Maker of all things and I shout out, ''Ya Lateef! Ya Jabbar! Ya Fattah, iftah alayy! Oh the Most Subtle One, The Compeller, The Opener of all doors and gates, and everything else, please Open up my way! I ask not of the world whose people tell me of all things impossible! I ask You, O Creator of all things, You for Whom nothing is impossible! Please send me that which my heart is too afraid to put into words to ask of You, forever seeking right words and never being able to form them; Please send to me from Your infinite bounties a beautiful patience, contentment, peace, happiness and gratefulness in all forms and things of this life; Please send upon me Your infinite Mercy and Khair; I am your heedless forgetful wanting creation begging You to never Forsake me, and to Fill me up in the places that feel empty and bereft of Your Blessings; Please Hold me close Ya Wudood, The Most Loving, Oh Alllah! Allahumma Ameen.''

Forgiveness of Sins

I wear my sins upon my skin,
as it breaks and peels about me,
This disgrace I accept...
With every wear and tear of my bones,
I wilt within, remembering
the roads of folly and brave naivette
that they chose to walk upon,
Their weakness I accept...
This heart, this soul,
and all the memories
which they begrudgingly encapsulate
I writhe in pain from them being evoked
For in my power their dousing
does not work,
dismembering each segment
of how when and why they surfaced
the mind to its fate surrenders
and the soul that in its myriads
had fornicated,
lies naked and begging to be
wiped clean, be washed,
and be purified of all memories
that come alight when a random
story is being told
and it’s masked glory is
shining like soldered gold...
For a jaded heart and its sordid mess
has no place for promises
that lied and tore
as they unabashedly caressed
the surface clean and left it disgustingly black.
Forever scrubbing...
washing...
scraping...
peeling...
wishing to undo the layers,
of stench and hell
that each memory played
on its beaten mattress
Upon which the soul laid down
and recoiled…
I close my eyes; shut them very tight
And my lips fervently beg.
My soul travels till where
You, my Lord, will allow it go
in its sleep or when awake
and my soul continues
to throw itself upon Your Walls
and burns in hope for your Mercy
That one day this soul of mine
will be freed; totally cleansed
like a new born baby,
and with Your Permission
the heart will beat again.
With Your Permission
it will breathe again.
With Your Permission
the soul will be granted
entry into Your Haven
and will thence never fall again.
Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi rajioon.
To God; Allah, we belong
and to Him is our return.

Escapism...

''... She wished to blow a bubble... nice, big and roomy... all around herself, and get it to be pushed off into the atmosphere, where it would float above and away from all things and people that she knew. In that bubble, she'd be allowed to be herself, and that would be okay with the bubble... and nothing else would ever matter again...''

Mayhem - Death

*Picture taken from the internet: Source unknown


With dirt across their face in streaks
Grimy hands and cracked feet
Shirts strewn with blood and…

Doesn’t your heart shriek
Don’t your eyes weep
They are desperate for you and I
to do something
before all and everything
that we knew to be life
is destroyed by their
bomb and gunfire speak
Age is not even a number
as their bodies are piled high
One across another
Two on top of their mother
brother sister aunty uncle
They’re all holding hands
of aged worried grandparents
stooped, then maligned and buried
beneath a ravaged son and a father
who holds his new born bundle
blown to pieces before he could
even kiss its cheek
The unborn fetus that couldn’t
even make it into this world
before it was wrenched
into uncountable pieces of a family
drenched and buried in their own blood
Lineages wiped out before humanities eyes
Havoc is hurled about
And all its creations lie asunder

Oh Lord! Please send your Mercy?

With dirt across his face
Grimy hands, cracked feet
Tears in streaks upon streaks
Tattered clothes strewn with blood!

I'll wait till 2020...

That year was 2010

When no more thoughts of ‘they’ I’d pine

I’d give in to the decree of His Chime

Whatever cometh my way here forth

With patience I’d persevere their force

And only to Him I would then turn

And ask for every moment’s burn

To be healed and recompensed in full

I’d wait till 2020 to see

How empty or full this stance shall have been

May the Lord make it easy – Ameen.

To One Day...

SubhaanAllah – Glory be to Allah!

To one day hear that all was not futile,

To know that the heart can now rest

and all the tests are over,

The weights have been lifted,

The measures recorded,

The road ahead clear and sharp,

The walk ahead easy and quick,

To know that the wait is finally over,

To be on the other side,

And look back in wait to see

Who else from your loved ones

Will be joining you; freed

To stand my ground

And breathe in the most beautiful scents

To look around and see 

All the beautiful souls at peace

To be absolutely happy

The likes of which 

Could never be imagined

To hear my Lord say – Go!

Your sins have all been forgiven

And to Heaven is thy decree

And in Heaven shall thee reside!

SubhaanAllah – Glory be to Allah!

To hear those words be uttered to me,

To have them etched beyond just in my heart

To have them actually be made my reality

My heart and soul, mind, body and everything

It truly pines, and it awaits its destiny

In forbearance and repentance

In hope and in faith

It thrives and it waits

Inn Allaaha ma’a’Saabireen

For indeed, Allah is with

The patient ones.

Ameen.

Let's Look Into Our Mirrors?

Flawed beings demanding perfection?
Ostentatious – Ridiculous – Preposterous!
Blind to the reflections of imperfections
That stare them in their face
Focused on counting
what’s not right in others
Rejecting reality and living facades
Portraying the decay of their heart
Exhibiting grotesque beliefs
that reside in a cavity of
culturally misconstrued
culturally maligned
and culturally misguided
utter nonsensical paradigms
that failed themselves to begin with
and are now being cast
upon you!
Yes, upon you and I!

A Child's Resilience Versus An Adult

A child’s resilience versus mine-
He got screamed at
and he stubbornly stood his ground
while I silently in a lone corner
wiped my tears away;
Helplessly.

Screams and shouts often reverberate
off these walls, directed at
somebody or another
a child or a mother
These booming voices; this noise
I wish to obliterate.

A calm serene habitat
Too much to ask for, on this earthen mat?
Bow and prostrate, repeat and repeat
With an urgency inexplicable
I supplicate as I speak 
To the creator of this mess.

Empty and Loud

It’s 1015 pm 

on a weekend night,

In solitary silence I type -

Annoyed by the frivolity of

all that surrounds me.

Texture-less fabrics

Spread out before me,

Reminders of ubiquitous nothings,

Jarring and ringing in my ears,

Reminding me of my insignificance

In everything.

And Allah Knows Best

‘‘And Allah said: I am with the ones whose hearts are torn.’’ - Hadith Qudsi

So close, waiting for you to reach…
So near, waiting for you to speak…
Closer than your jugular vein
Knowing more about what you feel,
What you’re going to think,
Before you think it; feel it.
So call, reach out, speak,
For He remains but a prostration away,
For He remains but a dua away,
Your lips need not even move,
Your breath need not even heave,
All your soul needs to do is move towards Him,
Speak to Him through your soul,
For it is the soul that will forever live,
And it is your soul that needs to be fed,
Constantly – with His rememberance,
With His company, with His comfort,
Which only He can provide.
So seek Him, reach out to Him,
And He shall hear,
He shall provide in ways that you cannot even imagine,
In ways that you could have never asked for,
Because He Knows Best when to give,
What to give, and how to give…

''Illegal Workers''

Strewn about like discarded garbage,
Lined up like sticks under a tent,
Scattered around where ever land would allow them.
Human bodies with souls under duress,
Where to are they headed?
Their destinies remain awaiting a call to their fate.
Brought into this land by means unknown,
Doing day to day jobs and saving some for their own,
But now no more, for those doors are announced closed.
Lifeless bodies, lying in distressed fatigue,
Resting their bodies for another day of shrieks,
Hoping for their slate to get swiped clean.
Will they return home to better tomorrows?
Will they be able to make it with some dignity left?
Or will another loan shark take control of their debts?
Allahu musta’aan! Allahu musta’aan! Allahu musta’aan!
Allah is Whom we seek help from, Allah only can help!
May He bring ease to their state and situation;
Ameen.

Away From The Hubbub

                                                         Listening and watching in silence

To all that's happening; she then sighs

Questioning herself to find a balance

To not respond in angry sarcasm

Others actions remain beyond her control

Managing emotions; crushing moans and groans

Adulation of things that will die

Eternity being mocked, as if a lie

Fusion of fashions, loud and aglow

Discussion of religion 

As if at a performance or a show

The clock keeps on ticking

Days on end keep slipping

Years roll into a decade

Where is it that she is headed?

Turning to the only Steady she knows

Throws herself into a bow on the floor

Supplicating for the gaps to fill

And not let her heart escape its till

Sanctimonious worship will get no one by

The soul has to join the heart as it cries

Reaching out to a seemingly oblivion

Allowing hope to sing and be ridden

On a glorious glimmering black stallion 

To a place that can only be God’s Haven…

Insha’Allah – Ameen.

Indeed My Lord Is With Me, He Will Guide Me

Verbal Blows

Is there no softness to your being?
Not a kind word,
Not a kind look,
Nothing?
Be not so absorbed in yourself!
Please?
You are supposed to be precious.
To her, to me, to us.
Why make it so difficult?
We beg for ‘your’ forgiveness
from the One Who Forgives
But not everyone else will.
And this shall remain a constant fear
In our hearts that pray
For you to soften,
Your words to soften,
Your being to soften…
‘Ya Muqallib Al-Quloob
Oh Turner of hearts,
Please make all that is hard in him
soft.’
Ameen.

Just Like That...

Safia

She walks in beauty; in sheer elegance, whispered poignance,

In utter command, her emotions in check,

The smile on her face, her glistening eyes;

surely they hold back so much more than a heart can imagine,

those lips that upwards turn, sporting mirth;

surely they hold back dialogue 

that perhaps the heart solemnly withholds,

She truly inspires with her reminiscent attire;

that bun, that beautiful simple chain, and ever so light make up,

it show cased her beauty - inside out,

her very gesture as she showed up to attend

and share in the happiness of her hosts, 

despite her own immense riveting loss -

Oh so much strength! Oh so perfectly cultured! (masha'Allah)

Surely they must be proud while they rest before the Yawn Al Qiyamah? (insha'Allah)

For they have indeed raised a beautiful daughter! (masha'Allah)

May Allah swt bless her with the best of emaan and health

as she takes care of her family; her siblings, her all...

May they all live the best that this duniya has to offer,

and get the ultimate best in the Hereafter too...

~ Ameen. 

*Safia \s(a)-

fia\ as a girl's name is a variant of Safiyah (Arabic, Hindi, Swahili), and the meaning of Safia is "friend; pure".

Grief

It’s one of those things that every human goes through in their own way; each moment - deep, surrounded by the sorrow of memories that flood you. There are those who speak their heart out, face the people concerned, and talk about it, ask about it. There are those who silently pray from afar, transfixed in the news of their loss, unable to physically do anything to help. There are those, who try facing the people, do little to help in matters on hand because someone else already seems to be handling it, and so they stay on the sidelines, struggling to find the right words, wishing not to add to the burden by asking too much and making the people repeat the stories of their pain, of how it happened, what’s happening now, etc. praying from a distance, ever ready to do anything asked if need be. But what remains a constant in each situation of people, is the pain. Whether someone was close, or family, or a friend, or an acquaintance… everyone’s pain IS pain. Perhaps the different ways of expressing it (or the lack of ability to express it at all) may not be agreed upon by everyone culturally, religiously… but the expression and reaction is ultimately for God to know… for our duas and supplications are sent out to him. Those who are able to, will get their feelings across to the families in some way shape or form… but it won’t be until many more weeks from the time of when it all happened, that they might remember and actually respond to your having been there at the time… Regardless of the myriads


Suffer in silence… withdrawn into a quiet stupor.
Suffer in silence… morbid thoughts of a moment over.
Suffer in silence… vulgar words in memory spoken.
Suffer in silence… people many yet people absent.
Suffer in silence… incensed thoughts emotions awaken.
Suffer in silence… until tomorrows glimpse of a new horizon