Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Poetry on my Mind

I've written some Islamic poetry in the past and thought I'd share them.
The last one is my favorite.


Late Night Hour

The black-blue sky split in half,
Reveals the late night hour of mercy,
When your Lord Descends down the Heavens
As humanity into its darkest abyss.

My soul left my heart
Lonely, looking for another.
Its absence filled my chest with a blanket of ice,ea
Tears frozen that freely flowed.
All that existed for the moment
Being, a body of heavy mass
Letting out a long slow breath that
Signals its emptiness.

Purify yourself,
Fold your hands,
Prostrate yourself.
Find your forhead on
The Earth as you acknowledge
Your origin and being from it.
Seek to cleanse the self before
Slumber sends your soul
Till it be revived at dawn.



Merciful Tears

Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
Falling into cupped palms of prayer.

O Allah!
As my duaas ascend to Your Glory,
Let them testify my plea for Your Mercy.
Allahul Musta3an.

My soul, pale from weariness,
Of climbing and gazing on earth
Yet I remind myself,
To Allah we belong, And onto Him we return.

---
I borrowed and modified the first 2 lines of 'Merciful Tears' from A.L. Tennyson.


The Feeling of Uncertainty

You know that feeling –
No, not the one when you’re frightened,
But the other one, when your stomach begins to shrink and tighten.
When the sudden squinting of eyes,
The hammering at the back of your head
Doesn’t prevent you from realizing
It’s the moment you’ve dread.

The dust has settled,
The lines have been drawn,
Between black and white,
They are gray.

That feeling ran through the valleys of north Georgia,
As those native to this land depart,
Leave a trail of tears,
Roses grow where mothers once wept.

That feeling ran through the hills of California,
As Pearl Harbor fell to attack,
The pain felt by a West Coast generation of
Children of the camps.

That feeling still runs through the streets of Brooklyn,
As twin towers disappeared on that black Tuesday,
Investigators and authorities lie await,
For fathers returning from houses of worship.

That is
The feeling of uncertainty.



A Prelude to The Clash of Civilizations: An Exchange Between Ibn Hazm & Andrew Marvell

Draw near so I may share with thee,
My afflicted heart’s ecstasy.
So tell me how to describe a sight,
That rivals the tranquility of a starry night.
A moment’s breath shall never give due essence,
A life’s journey – not enough to invoke her presence.
I find no difficulty in describing her delicacy,
For the challenge she presents, lies in her complexity -
Like a beginning without an end,
Mystifying to transcend.

Words of such intrigue
Confound my heart with mystique.
My dearly distressed guest,
Even we suffer from such symptoms in the West.
There lies no mercy from what you yearn,
When all is said and done, we are always left us with something to learn.
So put aside your emotional sentiments,
For I urge to speak about this beauty’s adornments.
Tell me, was this mistress young and fair,
A nymph with rosy cheeks and golden hair?
Did you pause upon her as she wandered carelessly
In flower gardens and swaying willow trees?
Did your indulge eyes upon her sight,
Be true now, were your intentions right?

She is more than the image you present,
I say this without resentment.
Purer in love than your innocent maiden,
Shown by the way she held her children.
Never a thought to her curves or flowing hair of gleaming dyes,
Since I was too lost in the melancholy of her eyes.
No need to hold her beyond heavens rise,
Giving the little she had to charity – she’s certainty one of paradise.
Inquiring from the beggar who received her generosity
Revealed a widowed mother of timeless serenity.
My intentions of full integrity – to ask her hand for eternity.

Where lays the charm, the seduction
In such a woman whom I’d hardly glance at, lest give devotion.
Surely on beauty and love we differ in our conceptions,
Perhaps, a prelude to the clash of civilizations.