Showing posts with label Pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pain. Show all posts

Sunday, 10 September 2017

Harud

Picture Courtesy: facebook.com/Kashmir.pictures
http://static.ibnlive.in.com/ibnlive/pix/ibnhome/fallindiart10.jpg

I was supposed to be coerced into liking Autumn before Winter, followed by Spring and then, ugh - Summer - neither of us liked the latter. You disappeared before sharing Autumn with me. Now every picture of Autumn everywhere I will see, will burn me like your Chinar trees in Harud.



Wednesday, 30 August 2017

Fighting the hole


As I spread my hands before me, with Your many names upon my lips fervently hung over Your attributes of Forgiveness, Giving, Listening, Answering, Knowing, Seeing, Hearing, All Ableness, and so much more... I fixate on the spot that looks like a hole. I see around that hole blessings abound; so many that I cannot count them one by one in thanks... but, I thank You for each and every one of them as only You would Know Best and hopefully Accept. But, the eyes... these woefully-possessed-as-if-uncontrollable-eyes keep getting drawn back to that one speck, which is not a mole, and keep looking at it as a black hole. It seems to have a fluctuating depth of hollow never-endingness or perhaps just a slight bend on the road of many gifts, depends on which state of peace the heart is in. As the soul fervently focuses on thanks and gratitude and humility, the eyes are perturbed by whispers of the devil... the nafs... the humanness? Which, I'll never know. But as the focus comes upon it, in all it's ebbs and flows, all it keeps looking at is that one blessing I could not get to hold on to. It came into my life plenty of times, but only to tempt me, make me weak, ungrateful, and so frustrated... because I could not hold on to it. It keeps piercing into the abyss trying to pull itself out of it, and in the struggle of the jump and the pull, it tires itself of the screams that are it's own recriminations. It slumps into the wet mess of it's own tears and continues thanking The All Knowing Able One Who has Made me who I am, to live the tests that have been written down for me, and hope not to fail, and hope to keep surfacing back up with thanks... For if the gratitude were to be lost, so would all hope of sanity and a blessed Eternity. Ya Ar Rahman Ar Raheem, Ya Ghafoor Ar Kareem - please Hold me as I feel like I am drowning... If You Save me not, I will drown myself in my tears. Please Hush my hankerings and Take me away from my human needs and wants that will suffocate me without Your Intervention. My salvation lies only in Your Holding me and Sufficing me. I plead You to Hold me and Suffice me. Ameen, Ya Dhall Jalaali Wal Ikram.




*Written to Sange Saboor playing out in the background. My Lord being my only Pillar of Patience whereupon I stop to cry.

Monday, 21 August 2017

Tether Ye Were Not It Seems

The real test begins when you pine in silence, in between prayer, your own audience, and your tears. When you console yourself that The One Who Listens to all, can hear you. When you pray ever more fervently that He will Help you through this because He has a Plan better for you than you can understand. As you traverse the lanes of memories that will be evoked at random, of words shared, of likes and dislikes, of shared emotions and opinions and wishes, every stroke of that uninvited memory will grate at your patience and hankerings. You will break, shatter, crumble, moan, and hold yourself. You will try to breathe in and breathe out as calmly as the moment will allow it, and not let yourself remain on the ground. You will pick yourself back up again. You know how to do this. Life has been a constant practice of doing just this. There are so many compartments that have been designated to demons conquered. You know you can do this. Yes, there will be times of weakness, when questions will haunt you and make you wonder what it was that you could have done otherwise. Yes, there will be times of sadness when you will imagine how beautiful things could have been if only you were not hoping on things alone, but you are. Hoping on things alone. And alone, you can only do so much. So it is best to keep letting go of what has left you. Chasing it is every kind of painful and will leave you ever more so profoundly alone. Hug your soft covers, your pillows, your cushions and be thankful for having these blessings. The blessings that many others don't. So what if they aren't as warm as an actual body. So what if they don't hold you back. At least they offer some comfort as opposed to none. The privacy of your room allows you to relive things in peace. It allows you to cry and pray and beg your Maker in ways where you are free to turn your insides out and pour your grief out to Him unabashedly. Be grateful that your Maker permits you to use His words, His praises, His names, and reach out to Him. In grief many have lost their way. Be grateful you know how to respond to your grief. You are alone, but never so without Him being with you always. He may not be the body that your body was made to crave. But He is your Maker and He will bring you out of this new pain. He will help you fashion a new compartment for this fresh loss and He will Help you get through the prickly path where the roses of words shared will tempt and entice you with their scents, as well as prick you with the thorns of their impermanence, their transient visit into your life; Brief, oh so unreal, surreal, call it whatever you may, but that's what it was. The roses were never meant for eternity. Let the memory of that scent fade away, because if it were meant to stay, it would have found a home within the confines of your precious book, to leave a permanent ink of it's form, or a debris of it's existence, albeit more delicate in it's dried out form, but a presence nonetheless. It's existence would have been proof of it's commitment, and you have nothing but static that typed itself out via a format of numbers and words. It was a binary, a code... human? No one knows because experience tells you many humans come in the most mechanical forms just to short circuit your entire being, with intentions of passing time where you are the toy that gathered their attention for now. You are not a tether for no camel. Only Allah Knows what you are because at most times usually, you are quite a susceptible fool. Your one worthy trait is that at least you can pray. Always be grateful for that. Pray to Him to make you more resilient and more alert to the dangers of those who wish to rouse your heart and feelings with no intentions to stick around and honour you. Honouring things takes more heart and strength of character than what most of this world is capable of offering. So be careful and save yourself before another fall. Your injuries sustained thus far may be plentiful, but you have so much to be grateful for. Just never let go of that. Sabr and Shukr will get you through this life always. Never let go of them. Wash yourself of the pain you feel right now and stand back up in prayer. When your head bows down; weep, and when you rise back up; breathe, and when you are done; savour that moment of inexplicable peace. May He The Most Loving, always be enough for you. Ameen.

Monday, 14 August 2017

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.

Wednesday, 29 October 2014

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.

Saturday, 1 March 2014

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...''

Monday, 19 November 2012

Asleep?

All around me rests; as it sleeps in the quite of the night, I sit outside under a very still pink sky... Everything around me underlines the silence of the night... Everything seems to be at a contrasting parallel to what I have allowed myself to be watching from the 'safety' of my home, these past couple of screaming loud relentlessly moving, yet un-moving hours... This pink night sky is as if a reflection of all the blood that is being shed in the crimes against humanity... The silence itself as if mourning all the loss... A silence before a storm from the Lord of all mankind, perhaps? The soul yearns and hopes, for His commanding stroke to manifest Itself and spread It's desperately called out for Mercy, upon all those pining with their arms outstretched to the skies, with their bodies and families, their unborn fetuses and children, forsaken in the hope of a salvation from their Maker -

Ya Lateef, Ya Hakeem, Ya Qawiyy, Ya Rahman, Ya Raheem, Ya Malik, Ya Jabbar, Ya Furqan, Al Awwal, Al Akhir, Al Qayyum, Al Qareeb...


... I wonder if my pink sky will soon join me, as my eyes cry for the people of Palestine, for the oppressed and needy everywhere... As we - all of humanity under the same sky - bleed under oppression, unhelped, unheard... To death, number after number, multiplying into a nameless heartless statistic quoted to me sometime tomorrow, when the rested have awaken from their quite sleeps...

Allahu musta'an

''Innalillahi wainnailaihi rajioon''


Tuesday, 8 May 2012

Cleansing

With a pencil in my hand, on a paper I begin this scrawl... a paper from a book which was until a recent past, singed with memoirs of yester-years; replete with grave mistakes and painful choices. I sit here today, having removed proof of most of my errors. Why I had stored memories away, to begin with, baffled me when I undertook the task of reading things which seemed to have been forgotten with time. Letters which in their time evoked streams of joy, anticipation, fear... seemed to have lost their marvel when I sat reading them, before I ripped them up - piece by piece - and calmly piled them into a trash bag; stuffing bags through their seams by the time every piece was removed. I was left clutching on to scattered bits of memories, as they had been stirred into an awakening unplanned and unpleasant - I coerced myself and hurried to lay them all to rest as I prayed upon my Lord for whom I had forsaken everything and by Whose Grace I had been living since; saved from any more grief that could be perceived by a wanting soul - of then and now. I seem to find myself at a fork in the road, where I hope to lay the dead to rest and finally find a peace permanent. Part of me wishes that I could go back to a better part of me that existed then and merge it with the better part of me that exists today... Alas, this is not to be, for if wishes were horses then beggars would surely ride. With this adage in mind, I hope the best part of me is not entirely lost, but remains somewhere preciously safe... patiently waiting to be properly found a final time around... insha'Allah; Ameen!
Inna mai'ya rabbi sa yahdeen... [Indeed, with me is My Lord... He will guide me through - Al Quran 26:62]

Saturday, 17 March 2012

Jaded

This post has been inspired by the song, I don't feel it anymore - by William Fitzsimmons...





I don't feel it anymore. Much of anything mostly offlate. It was all taken away? I lost it on the way? It's not here, where it matters anymore - and that's what matters. I don't feel it anymore; the care, the worry, the need - I don't see it anymore. Anything. Much of everything - it's all just flitting on by. 20 years and then, 10. Come and gone. I was young once. No more; I certainly don't feel it anymore. No reason to make me try, want to just more than get on by. Nothing to spur me on, better myself... For myself it is this way or that - who cares? Not I, I don't see much of anything anymore. I used to feel once, but it's certainly not so now, no more do I, for you've all taken it all away. The little glimmers of possibility that take life in my heart are put off like a candle just lit but drenched by rain. The down pour has become infertile. No more do the tears release the pain. It locks itself in and seems too afraid to breathe even. I've hurt for quite some time now, and I don't think all that time will ever be returned. To hope for a happiness in anything certain, seems not to be happening; it is to be taken away, just like all things else here, in this now and in this today. Leave it all, I wish for, to remove myself from everything and find peace in not feeling anything anymore. I'm fine. I don't need to feel or see any of it - any way.

Every time there remains a longing. I realise, I had fooled myself, but now time is up again - must come back to reality. Reality is the mother of all things hollow, painful, resounding those two traits over and over in order to achieve a complete cycle of pain and it's many myriads. You're still typing the angst out of an empty vessel, that wishes to bemoan a thousand and one things, but is lost with words not enough - perhaps words precise - to narrate itself. This is a longing pining to be filled. This is a pang longing to be fulfilled. This is an anguish hardly unleashed, barely assuaged of what it wishes to achieve. Buries itself in prayer and meditation; Dhikr. Ups and downs, to's and fro's. Redundant rebounds, absolute - paramount; Alas bare and vagabond. I confirm to nothing. Not I, nor my being. I only submit to the Will of the One, and His spin wishes me to swirl some more reels of lessons down pat, before I can breathe my last. With in these spins I have to find my smile, and mean it. With in these spins I have to unwind. The doubtful possible will be made possible - and on that note I shall end this diatribe, a rant even. 

I don't need to feel anything else, anymore - You, they, Hey, go on - take it all away, for I don't feel it anymore. The wait on for eternity will keep me going, nothing else from any of you do I need to feel something, only for it to go again. It did before, and it will - that is the only certainty. So just leave me with my thoughts, jaded as they and I together may seem. I don't need to feel anything, anymore. I will wait for that certainty, I will wait, certainly - I will wait forever more...

         

Wednesday, 1 February 2012

Mustafa




A little mite, you.

You came, and before I knew it, now you are gone.

A little mite, you. I knew you not, but felt your existence through someone I did. I saw you not, only heard about you being born... for not too long though. Today, less than 4 months later, you are now gone. Hearing of your pain has left me in a pain different- nevertheless, deep. Torn and bereft are those who made you (albeit with His, our Lord's permission), held you, played with you, nursed you and reveled in your being.

In your Maker are they all seeking solace now; left confused and trying hard to find peace in the knowledge that He, your Maker Knows Best. May your family find the sabr with you being gone... May the last memories of your pain be removed from all the heavy hearts that with it's memory breathe, morosely burdened... May your abode in heaven be a source of blessing in their lives... May those who remain with your memories, remember all that was in your presence good, and find constant peace in your memory, dear Mustafa... insha'Allah; Ameen.

Thursday, 1 September 2011

Human I am, undeniably!

My many imperfections, some obvious, some buried skin deep... 
My many reservations, some secrets, some hard to keep silenced when I speak... 
My many stifled hankerings, in actions slip out sometimes, but otherwise successfully quietened... 
My major grievances pacified, as Mr. Demon harkens on only to be resolutely abandoned... 
Whilst in my imperfections I find peace of knowing, that only human I am, undeniably!

Thursday, 25 August 2011

Somalia; In Allahá Maá Saábireen!



For every sip we take and every bite we eat, For every moment of peace we sleep and every commodity we buy unnecessarily - May we watch and weep, for how can we not be heavily moved by all the blessings that surround us from so afar unto so very deep, in every moment and in our every heart beat!

Alhumdulillah-e-Rabbul-Al-Ameen!
Alhumdulillah-e-Rabbul-Al-Ameen!
Alhumdulillah-e-Rabbul-Al-Ameen!


Sunday, 26 June 2011

Enough, Please?

Lost...
with my heart pounding
silently trying to let my feelings...
Exhaust.

Upset...
with emotions topsy turvied asunder
trying to be fair and respectful...
Unrest.

Diseased...
with intermittent bouts of malice
ununderstood by any balance...
Broken.

Time...
with undue duress has shown
different sides to his neanderthal bone...
Dissipate.

Resolve...
with patience try to swallow pain
praying for only goodness to remain, and...
Wait.

Tuesday, 21 June 2011

She Got Left Behind?

When did it happen
This; that she got left behind,
The race for some time now
had already started,
And she had most certainly
Never gotten out of the line...

Alas...

Destiny had it's own plans;
Recorded on its tablet of time
She was meant to be here
Weathering storms or whatever
Life was life; morose not for long
Being thankful was the real test of time.



Sunday, 29 May 2011

Charades of the Work Force

Ostentatious
the behavior of humans
Depressingly sad
how deep corruption seethes
Volatile
their vicious ammunition
Discord abound
it breeds into creeds
Blasphemous
their promises of things being fair
Malicious disparity
is all they amongst colleagues fruitlessly bear
Disgusting
how matters stand from this vantage point
And Allah swt Always Knows Best.

Friday, 6 May 2011

This Was Not Her

This was not her; the mess, the anger, the reactions, the words, the feelings. This was what she was not equipped to deal with. Her head would speak to her, while her tongue went on and did as the surrounding induced. Her mind only won when on the mat she let her tears wash away her guilt, recriminations, anger, hurt, sorrow and everything else that was not welcome in the form of negativity. While those around her continued to live, they continued to be - she continued to see, and continued to plead. The overflow of pain, confusion, discord, mayhem and disrespect was no more overwhelming - it had crossed thresholds of patience some time ago, and was barely managing to keep adrift in the ocean of foreign deprivation she found herself immersed in. Swimming was something she had never been taught, and no amount of self help books were coming handy anymore. Something was deeply and surely amiss, for patience used to be the one thing she prided herself in being able to practice, and that too now was a lost blessing. With it's loss, she had lost herself (the self she had been familiar with), and knew not how to coerce back this lost self to a state of acceptance. The present unfamiliar person that existed in a shell did not understand anyone, and with every passing day was beginning to stop caring about love in all forms that it could exist. The only love that was still surviving was the love for her Maker, and if it were not for that One Familiar ground, she would perhaps have stopped existing courtesy the riot that roared in her head for the most part of her every day off late. This was not her; the mess, the anger, the reactions, the words, the feelings. This was what she was not equipped to deal with.

~ In prayer she then went back to throw herself.

Sunday, 27 March 2011

Release Yourselves


As we live it, you and I
We have not much left to blame
After all the pages turned
over and over
Pictures burned and removed
from their seamless covers
Pointless repeats you have become
The pain that came with you
The pain that left with you
Redundant musings;
Petrified, Molly Coddled, Lain to sleep
Reality sublime forever clear
in its moment leaves you awake
To truth not before seen
Dreams that were only dreams
Stark facts that you sit here ruffling through your brain
Nothing but an empty terrain; bare
Let yourself let them go
May it all sink in and finally rest
never to surface again...