786
Ya Allah,
I am so lost
lost and yet found in You
In You there a solance so pure
Like natures tears of morning dew
Ya Allah
I am still in sin
it there is no way I can win
but I've fought this battle fore
and simply don't fight anymore
Ya Allah
I've forgotten the prize
desperate to fill my emptiness through my eyes
What words shall I use to tell you of my weakness
Almighty you know better then me:
It is me and it is them
and I don't know what to do
Ya Alllah
this is how I am
this is how I speak
and only you can understand
only your mercy do I seek
Ya Allah
I am a sinner
a grave sinner
but Oh Merciful
in my selfish lust
I ask the same thing again and again...
Please forgive me
because all I have to offer
is the unease with which I live
my only testament to the fact
that I love You still
PoeticDua
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
THE SIGNS
His signs are in everything, living, breathing,existing. The eye was created to behold, the mouth to praise. There is no God but Allah and Muhammed (pbuh) is His Prophet
in each creation are His Signs,
for those who see and are not blind
they are in the mother's love.
and in the flight of a dove
they are in the tears of the poor
and the child who sleeps at the door
they are in the clouds,
covering the sun like a shroud
they are in the rains
relieving the earth of its' pains
they are in the womb
the soul's temporary tomb
they are in a child's birth,
brought forth with agonizing mirth
they are in the desert sands,
upon which, for days, the camel does stand
they are in the simplicty of the bedouin,
as he cries upon each sin
they are in the phases of the moon,
telling how this moment will be gone soon.
they are in the passage of time,
reminding me that my soul is not mine.
they are in the day,
enticing adults to labor and the children to play.
they are in the night,
when our dreams take flight
they are in the Holy Qur'an, eternally
perserved in hearts, in it's entirety
they are in the Sunnah,
carried by each Muslim and Muslimah
they are in the memory of our Prophet (pbuh),
the thought of whom makes the heart soften.
they are in the pen of the scholar,
striving to never falter
they are in the death of humanity,
an inevitable reality.
they are in the angel's knock,
a summons none of us can block.
His signs are everywhere, for all to see.
in the open.
and in my heart, alone with me
A MUSLIM WOMAN
A Muslim Woman is:
A piece of art,
colors covering every inch of a pure, pristine canvas
A queen of hearts,
only the honorable selected may grace her presence
A rare jewel,
precious, you can only purchase with that which is righteous
A protected gift,
wrapped in modesty, beauty beyond duniya's capacity
An intellect,
wisdom and grace, reflected on her face
A protector,
guarding that which He gave, only His slave
An enigma,
unique, through her Deen does she speak
An example,
of what could be, if only they would see
A Muslim woman is one of a kind,
you can look, but the likes of her, you won't find.
MIRACLES
A PIECE I WROTE FOR THE UNIVERSITY OF WATERLOO'S MSA, RAMADAN DIARIES PROJECT:
http://ramadandiaries.com/2010/08/miracles/
Monday, August 15, 2011
HER STORY
An old women sits alone,
her swollen knuckles clicking upon prayer beads.
She mutters under her breath,
for they get angry when she speaks out loud.
Her own story does she tell,
with no one to listen but the birds upon the sill
She is Maryam, Aisha, Fatima.
She is "umm" someone.
Upon someone's skin is her sent.
Someone's hair does remeniss the feel of her hands
In someone's voice do her lesson's live
Mother, Daughter, Wife, Sister.
Titles amongst which she lost herself,
for she gave who she was to be who they needed.
Sacrifice, Comprise, Serve, Protect, Keep
She gave without the slightest moan
and in the end they all left her alone
History is her story,
her foot prints upon borders,
her tears watered new fields,
her prayers a silent foundation,
her sacrifices for liberation
When asked to give, she gave,
everything that was in her name,
when the summons came.
Unquestioning, Loyal, Strong,
and yet they do her wrong.
For each second of her pain she will gain
for each cut upon her heart, a brick was laid.
She did all this, with finesse,
because she knew that her home in Jannah was already made.
REVIVE
i asked without expectation and was given without exception
i opened my heart and was given a new start
i made amends and now upon them my Jannah will not depend
i prayed all night and today everything is all right
i smiled from the depth of my soul, as i came closer to that goal
But then...
i forgot what He gave, and now my soul is a wandering slave
i allowed anger in, and it lead to every other sin
i became arrogant, and to the dogs were my good deeds sent
i wasted my time, and now my heart is covered in grime
i lied to myself to keep doing it, and now in a grave does my body sit
Imaan is a journey, it is natural to feel the ups and downs of its' fluctuation. Only the best amongst us walk an unwavering path. But for those of you who are like me (average at best), remember that when you feel it go down, revive it, refresh it, make it rise again. Beg Allah to lift your soul, beg Him to not abandon it at the bottom where you left it, beg for forgiveness.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
ALONE WITH SURAH RAHMAN
I am alone with Surah Rahman,
Its rhythm shaking my soul,
rising shivers upon my flesh,
tears settling into the cusp of my lashes.
They drop in shame,
drain, oh how they drain,
because Ya Allah, I am drowning in my shame.
Your words admonish my eyes, my hands, my mouth, my ears.
the tools with which I disobeyed without fear.
but it is not Your wrath that breaks my heart, but the Mercy
upon which this Surah does start.
This Mercy from which I turned my face,
desperate to win duniya's unending race.
I abandoned all that You gave,
and yet my soul You did save
Ya Allah, You are my everything
and to You I have offered nothing
How shall I present my gratitude?
with my imperfect, broken, worthless servitude.
And yet you accept these scattered pieces of my soul
taking the jagged edges and making me whole.
Upon your mercy I do cling,
desperate as bird who has broken its' wing.
Forgive me for my sins,
for they pierce my soul like a thousand sharp pins
Each self-inflicted wound a fault of my own,
so dependent on your mercy, I have grown
There are those much better then me who plead,
but a sinner like me is in greater need
I blew out my own light,
casting myself into a darkness deeper then night
And when it suffocated my soul, and I cried
for You from the bottom of that hole,
Your light did I find;
one trickle for me from that which You gave all of mankind.
But I forget, and to my weaknesses I do return
in this state my soul fights, and for You does it yearn
Ya Allah, my nafs is always a-crave,
but I know that there can not be two masters for one slave
and so I crawl to You in humility,
my forehead upon the ground,
grateful for that ability.
I know I will never be worthy of You,
but Ya Allah, with Your Mercy,
Please always keep me close to You
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