Posts from the “Poetry” Category

my guide

Posted on April 26, 2019

my heart’s rapture holds the momentwhen I first glanced upon your facewhen all that mattered disappearedand you remained there in its place   when we first met, you did not speakyet until now, your voice I hearand though the miles stretch out farby the soul’s standard, you are near   I came to you in summer’s heatwith weary limbs and aching solesupon your doorstep I then fellfeeling, at last, I had come home   resting your hand upon my headyou wiped my journey’s dust awaywith you I sat, you marked the pathfor one who’d wandered long astray   above us rose a blooming moonits light extinguished all the starsand it was then I realizedI am there only where you are   for years, the…

there is a tale

Posted on September 10, 2018

there is a tale that aches the heart whose telling tears its seams apart a thousand years of flowing tears which call: ya Hussain   there was a band of noble few who left behind all that they knew to fight the fight of dark and light their chief, al-Hussain   of young and old their party made both valiant men and women brave with noble brows this noble vow til death! ya Hussain   with scorching days and bitter nights the barren desert marked their plight the wound struck first — the children’s thirst their cry, ya Hussain   the enemy in thousands came crooked their cause, lowly their aim blinded by greed prepared their steeds to kill… ya Hussain…   the river…

o eyes, shed your tears

Posted on September 22, 2017

O eyes shed your tears Muharram’s moon has turned in these days Hussain’s blood is spilled— the tents of Zaynab burned   O eyes shed your tears the caravan arrives soon will the sands redden with blood— the children’s gasping cries   O eyes shed your tears the bodies on the ground run upon by horses hooves— broken, in pieces found   O eyes shed your tears the son and father part the Prophet’s face enters the fray— yet spears still pierce his heart   O eyes shed your tears will not be quenched a thirst the neck of Hussain’s pure infant— an arrow reaches first   O eyes shed your tears to Furat Abbas goes Hussain sets out along his side— Hussain returns…

the secret

Posted on September 21, 2017

the world still craves to know the secret spoken by Hussain that changed the heart of one such as Zuhayr the son of Qayn   what was it that was spoken in the silence of that tent that changed a wary man into a man wholly content?   when just moments ago, Zuhayr had in this act persisted: where Hussain lay his camp, Zuhayr would lay his at a distance   two caravans had found their paths by destiny were crossed yet one hid from the other steering clear at any cost   til finally the noble son, the heir of Thaqalayn dispatched a message for Zuhayr, the simple son of Qayn   with one who had avoided him, Hussain now wished to speak…

your Ali

Posted on June 16, 2017

it’s long been a wish of mine a wish that my eyes may see standing underneath the sky of Madina’s pure city   of your city I have dreamed of your tranquil purity that soul resting in your sands RasoolAllah, Allah’s Nabi   in night-depths I lay awake to my eyes whispers a dream the sun’s fragrance in the rain coolness of the moonlight’s gleam   aching hands grasping at stars I walk weightless over seas green dome, rising from afar, your grave stands in front of me   how many words I wish to say! wishes of my heart to free! comes only a single phrase one thought brings me to my knees   no words worthy, like these words no other words…

some days

Posted on November 8, 2016

some days, I walk down the street like everyone else     bundling my coat close to my neck waiting for the stoplight to turn “some weather we’re having” “isn’t that right” “in my day, autumn was never this chilly”   some days, I go through the motions   scribbling my name hastily across a paper filling in bubbles, a code I can’t decipher “as you can see in figure a” “so this study clearly shows” which is better, one or two one or two one or two one or two— one or—   some days, I give in to forgetting   a whisper in my ear says, there is enough time – just rest my nails, chipped, ragged there are still many years to go splintered edges against rawed stone you…

the aftermath

Posted on October 13, 2016

your face haunts my every dream… I wake from the fragrance of your embrace to the scent of fire and weeping— to the wailing of flowing rivers, rivers of flowing blood.     “And think not Allah to be heedless of what the unjust ones do. He only respites them to a day when their eyes shall be fixed open [staring up with terror].”  – The Holy Quran, 14:42 –