Posts from the “Prose” Category

the clock is chiming

Posted on July 17, 2016

the clock is chiming, marking the hour of separation and i am caught in a slow moving apart, a heavy gaze, a drinking in with the thirst of one dying the angles of your face, the wrinkles of your eyes, holding your cloth, breathing in the remnants of scent of the only person i have ever loved. the clock is chiming, marking the hour of separation and i am backing away, each footstep the crushing weight of mountains. “with each of my first steps, i was closer, now closer, now the closest to you in this world that i had ever been… and with my final ones, i am now farther, farther, farther from you than i wish to ever be…” the clock is…

the dust of the king

Posted on June 26, 2016

21 ramadhan 1436 | najaf, iraq it is shortly after Fajr prayers, the early morning of the day you were killed. i am standing, leaning against blue tiles in an archway of your haram, head resting against cool marble, tears falling like drops of burning oil upon my skin. glancing across the courtyard, it is impossible to see the crimson tide of carpets beneath the sea of lovers dressed in black – one person inseparable from the other as they move in unison, the steady ripple of inky waves in the blackness of a desert night. ‘haydar… haydar…’ the rhythm of hands echoes to the words of an Arab lamentation. like the steady beat of drums, each hand falls upon the chest – like the strike…

the tenderness of your name

Posted on June 24, 2016

“why is it that words like these seem dull and cold? is it because there is no word tender enough to be your name?” Asadullah. Haydar. Ali.   what i am most grateful to my parents for – after Allah the Most Merciful, and Muhammad the mercy to mankind, for teaching me the name: Ali ibn Abi Talib. for mixing wilayat with my flesh and blood. i remember being embraced by the warm winds of Najaf, this prayer for them leaping from my chest – thank you, for being my first teachers of this love. thank you, because without wilayat – without the gate of Ali – how would  i have reached the city of Muhammad? without the city of Muhammad, how would i…

the Prophet of God

Posted on June 23, 2016

from the creation of the first man, Adam, God sent 124,000 Prophets to each place on earth to teach humanity about His religion; to guide them all to a single path – a path of morality, patience, justice, beauty, and submission to the will of an all-Merciful, all-Forgiving Lord. from Adam to Nuh (Noah) to Ibrahim (Abraham) to Ismail (Ishmael) to Yaqub (Jacob) to Yusuf (Joseph) to Musa (Moses) to Dawud (David) to Sulayman (Solomon) to Zakkariya (Zachariah) to Yahya (John) to Isa (Jesus)… to finally, the last in the progeny of Abraham, the seal of the Prophets, Muhammad. Muslim or not, it is impossible to deny that what Muhammad managed to accomplish – a simple man, born and raised in the desert of Arabia, sent by God to…

baba jaan

Posted on June 9, 2016

whenever the wheel of everyday living begins to grate on the soul, whenever things start to get too difficult and tasks begin to seem insurmountable – all I have to do is think of the one man who taught me all I know of hard work and perseverance. who, whenever I would come to him crying in frustration, standing on the brink of giving up, would rest his hand on my head and tell me – mera beta, you are bigger than anything you can or will face in this life. from childhood, always easing my heart with the simplest examples – but ones that will always stick with me like little lights brightening the sometimes unending darkness. “if bread is hard, chew it…

mother

Posted on April 18, 2016

alone, a traveler in a strange land, I found myself standing before you. like a small child, lost and confused I fell at your feet, stumbling upon the weight of my tears. the labyrinth of sorrows suffocated, twisting unbearable knots in my chest. I was bewildered, not knowing which way to turn. and then, I felt the tenderness of your hand. your reaching embrace, pulling me into your arms, the soothing whisper, I am with you now, Allah (swt) is watching, everything is going to be alright. with the touch of a mother you turned my chin upwards, my eyes to meet yours – and oh, such beauty, your face the moonlight, your eyes the stars… (Sayyida Masooma! on a night like this, how difficult it is to be so…

you.

Posted on March 20, 2016

In this entire universe, in this vastly exploding conglomeration of planets and galaxies and stars, there is one – only one – you. How beautiful is that? You are a wonder that has never existed before and will never exist again. You are a masterpiece. Each one of us is our own masterpiece. …So then, why do we spend so much time trying to become an imitation? Why do we spend so much time comparing ourselves to other people – how they look or dress or act or speak; constantly degrading ourselves through comparisons and wishes to change the shape of this or slim down that, to have his or her hair or body or face or hands or demeanor or everything other than…