Sajdah!

If it were not forbidden
by You
my Lord

I would

grab a garb
white

get a knifie
sharp

toward Qibla
lay a prayer rug

make wudu
in my blood

dive in Sajdah
glorifying You

until

my blood drains
and
my soul sets free

flying toward You.

The Flower

Unforgiving waves
with sinking intentions

Waves’ ally
the angry wind

Concerning sky with ocean
the soaring water spout

On this troubled set
a ship sailing

Broken decks
Wrecked sails

This ship
Has a captain!

Broken heart
Wrecked back

In his heart
Hundreds martyred

Shoulders up
Awakened mind

Fingers thrilling
the ship’s control

Eyebrows shadowing
the hopeful eyes

Voice of hope
a threat to storm

On his tongue,
a red flower

Source of calm
points to peaceful beach

Smells like blood

Recites:

Most beautiful poem:

Allahumma! Salli ala Muhammad wa aali Muhammad!

Doors

In the darkness of jungle,
the tiring silence is broken
by the weeping mothers’ echo

In this dark jungle,
Wolves claim friendship
Pigs claim leadership
Merchants are the lions,
selling kingdom of bravery
to the devil,
dancing to the music of
mourning men

Stranger is the Light
Alien is the Truth

In this dark jungle,
Towering bricks are the trees
Dripping blood is the bloom
The ambiguous fox
the only guide

In this dark jungle
In this deep caging
In this dreadful air,

Praise and thank the Creator,
for the open doors of
Iman!

Allahu Akbar!

The Kingdom of flaming Sun,
The Flaunt of magical moon,
The Majesty of glamorous Stars,
The Glory of splendid mountains,
The Splendor of prime clouds,
The Pride of soaring Trees,

In humiliating submission,
They plunge
In humbling prostration,

Mankind gathered,
With Jins,
Joined hands
with all creatures

Ink was made of oceans,
Pens were made of every tree,
Pages were made of every leaf

Every crystal of sand,
Joined the effort:

They wrote:
Glorifying You,
Praising,
Adoring,
Thanking You.

The inks finished,
The trees vanished,
The leaves exhausted,
Crystals burned,

The words of Praise did not fulfill
the Praise You deserve,

The Praise,
did not add to Your Glory!

In shame, defeat, humility
All submitted,
bowed and
to Sajdah they dived,
Asking:
“Lord! Forgive us.
Whatever we do, we come short to what You deserve!
Your Glory and Magnificence is Greater
than we ever can achieve
praising.

Allahu Akbar!”

It's Friday

(a dedication to the victims of Friday prayer bombing in Najaf, in which Ayatollah Hakim was martyred in 2003)
---

Dark cloud: dripping blood instead of rain,
It’s Friday.

Laughing loud: devil in mud celebrating pain,
It’s Friday.

A red shroud: soaked in blood not in vain,
It’s Friday.

A mother proud: tears in flood hopes slain,
It’s Friday.

Sacred shrine: believers’ sight
Holy ground: believers’ heart
Divine dome: Believers’ hope
Blessed rainfall: believers’ blood

It’s Friday.

Juma, Khutba, Imam, Unity, Blast, Blood, Shaheed,
Seventy Five
In Heaven.
It’s Friday!

After Midnight

My dear candle, burn slowly, for that I have a long night to endure.
My dear pen, bleed steadily, for that I have a heavy word to bear.
My dear paper, stand firm, for I have a dreadful letter to carry...

My dear candle, I see you melting, giving light, so that I in cooperation with pen
burden this pure white paper with my crumbled words.
That is the ultimate sacrifice. You melt to give light to others.
Or is it?
Sometimes, my dear candle, I wonder. Are you melting and giving light to the blind? Is your flame burning to smoke, for the teasing of mighty clouds? Why such sacrifice?
You melt to vanity, not even knowing what I�m about to write.
That is the ultimate trust. You don�t bother checking my work, yet for it, you burn.
Is it really trust? Or could it be absolute ignorance of yours?
Sometimes, I feel sorry for you.
And I can relate to you so much.

My dear candle.
You are so lonely.
Melting in yourself, with no attention, no friends, no visitors.
Or did you think that the moth is visiting you?
No. The moth is not attracted to you.
The moth is coming to the flame of yours.
Your flame burns you and your only visitor, who�s not really there to visit you!
And what�s a candle with no flame?

Sigh my dear candle, oh sigh!
Oh sigh to this loneliness, oh sigh!
I can relate to you so much.

My dear pen, I see you dripping your blood, bleeding ink, granting words to my troubled thoughts.
Sometimes, my dear pen, I wonder. Are you giving your blood to words that don�t matter?
Or perhaps the words are strong and mighty, but for whom? The blind? Those who can not read?
Or perhaps the words matter, but to those who are dead and wont be able to read?
Regardless, you bleed with no question, with complete trust in me.
Bleeding for what you know not.
Sometimes I feel sorry for you.
And I can relate to you so much.

My dear pen.
You are so lonely.
Bleeding by yourself, with no friends or visitors.
Or did you think that the writer is your friend? Taking you as a weapon?
Feel strong by that? Mighty?
Well, don�t!
It�s not you that the writer wants, my dear pen. It�s your ink, your blood.
Your only friend, visitor and companion, bleeds you to death for his own words which you cannot understand or see.
And what�s a pen with no ink?

My dear pen, you are so lonely.
Sigh my dear pen, oh sigh!
Oh sigh to this loneliness, oh sigh!

My dear paper.
You must feel very proud.
Proud of your purity, white with no spot.
Ready, bravely, to bear the blood of pen and the message of candle.
Hence, you are the conclusion of candle & pen�s sacrifice.
You make it possible for the words to have a place.
If there are no readers now, not to worry; you the paper, will carry the words until someone comes along and reads. Someone who can see, and will read to those who can listen.
Without you, my dear paper, pen�s blood and candle�s flame have no meaning.
But that�s all wishful thinking you have.

My wounded pen bleeding my broken words onto your fragile skin, violating your purity.
For what words?
If the words matter, for what reader?
When will they come along?
Here you are with two choices: remain pure with no spot, which makes you meaningless.
Or, you can stain yourself, ending your innocence, to bear the message of someone you do not know, for words you do not understand.

Sigh my dear paper, oh sigh!
Oh sigh to this loneliness, oh sigh!

Then there is me.
Joining candle, pen and paper and throwing a lonely gathering.
Melting, bleeding, enduring, weeping.
For what people?!

My dear candle, pen & paper. Is my life � you? Melting away to smoke, dripping blood to ambiguity, and staining my destiny with twisted words�for people who do not see? Do not hear? Do not comprehend?

My Dear candle, you are gone, melted, taking your last light.
My dear pen, you are dead now, all your blood gone.
My dear paper, your innocence, sacrificed for my words.

The night ended.
Dawn is near.
And my pain continues.
It�s not the length of night.
It�s the length of my story that is too much for the night to carry.

Sun is rising, candle melted, night ended, pen is dead.
What remains is me and you the reader.

Now, it is up to you, to read, comprehend and understand my pain and anguish.
But then, why should you care?
Do I have light to burn for you?
Ink to bleed for you?
Or offer a pure platform, for your thoughts?
But then, that will be about you, not me and my painful complaint.

Sigh oh sigh!
Sigh to this loneliness, oh sigh!

But wait!
One would listen to my grievance.
The One who granted me the light, the blood and the purity.
For that He is of no need, everlasting, listening, responding to the devastated injured slave who calls upon Him.
And such call will give an eternal meaning to the candle, its light, its visitor, and its death.
It will give eternal peace to the pen and its ink, and an eternal purity to the sacrificing paper.
So in Him I shall melt, for Him I shall bleed, to Him I shall sacrifice, and to Him I shall complain.
Afterall, to Him we all shall return.

When Two Islams Collide

When the Sun sighed,
and the Moon mourned,

When the wind wailed,
and the mountains moaned,

When the stars sorrowed,
and the skies cried,

When the trust trashed,
and the faith failed,

When the angels angered,
and the devil dared,

It was then,
when
The sinful weapons
were raised,
With the name
of the Greater Guide,

By the shrewd cunning
worst of all mankind

With the Islam of this world,
and a plan of greater divide,

Evil spirit under the banner
of Muslim power and pride,

Fraudulent and dubious flag
with sword and deceit allied,

In the heart of heat
in distant desert,
in waste of water,
to Allah�s friends,
thorn supplied

To the thirsty throat,
blade became the bride,

Evil swords broken in defeat,
by Seventy Two blood side by side,

No fear, no regret, no delay
when Noah�s vessel is the ride,

The Light of Allah - the Almighty Guide,
The Islam of Ahmad � Mercy to mankind,
Shall rise -
Faster than flood tide -
When two Islams collide.

Crescent, Before It Sets!

It was a strange dream. It felt so real. Perhaps, it was not a dream. Maybe it happened when I was too young, and I remember pieces of it as my memory tries to put the broken parts together like a crumbled mosaic.

He packed his bags, nothing much in it really. Some books, water, and a pen.
He took the bag on his shoulder, it seemed heavy on him, although not much in it.
“Heavy on you?” I asked.
“Yes, the books contain Truth!”, he replied with a smile.
It was none of my business, but I had to ask, and one question lead to another:


“Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“Well, where?!”
“Heading West.”

He never talked much. It was hard to get information out of him. Communicating with facial gestures, eyebrows and smiles seemed to be the only language he knew.

“West, where?”
“The other side of Mercury, catching the crescent before it sets.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’ll know, when your heart grows up.”
“When you come back, tell me about your journey”
“I’m not coming back”
“Then I must come with you or see where you’re going so that I can catch up with you when I grow…”
“No”, softly with a smile, “It‘s too dangerous“, he paused, dropped his head down, went into a deep thought, “but I can show you the way”
I was excited, thinking that when I grow up I can go where he’s going, and meet him again.
We walked together. It was a short walk.
We reached a road, it seemed it was heading to a desert!
“This is going nowhere!”, throwing my hands in the air in disappointment.
“This is how it seems, don’t let the appearance fool you.”
“Oh wait! I can see flowers on this road”
“No. Careful! Those flowers have poisonous thorns.”
“At least I can see some trees, with shade”
“Don’t get too excited, under each tree, there is a snake”
“Tell me more about this path”
“Well, my little friend, when your heart grows up, you have a choice to take this path, or stay home where you are.”
“I said, tell me more about this road”
“Your only shade, is the sun.
If you see a traveler, careful, it will only slow you down.
On this road, loneliness is your only companion.
The birds are mute, no chirping can be heard. Only the whispers of the devils.
If anyone offers you water, beware! It is the master-deceiver of this path.”
“Who is master-deceiver?”
“ He rides a horse, bigger than an elephant, and a black dog accompanying him, bigger than a horse.
He shows compassion but intends harm.
Speaks of peace while drinking blood.
Claims humanity while decorating his throne with human skulls.
His face is covered with a brown hood. He hides his face, because if you see it, you can see falsehood written all over it.
If he offers water when you’re thirsty, just throw the water at his face.
The master-deceiver is a weak one. Don’t let the size fool you.
He is weak, and deceives the weak.
So, be strong.”
“How can I get strong?”
“With the pen, like the one I carry.”
“What if I’m thirsty?”
“Take water, like I did”
“What if I get lost and master-deceiver offers direction?”
“Silly! That’s why I have the books.”
“Tell me. Is this journey worth it?”
“Yes. It leads to the Beloved. Hundreds take this path.”
“Hundreds? That’s not too many!”
“Yes. The grateful lovers are small in number”
“Why are YOU taking this path? Seems too dangerous.”
“I have to, I am the guide, that‘s my job.”
“You are the guide?” I asked in shock.
“Yes, you look surprised.”
“Well, are you qualified?”
“That’s not up to me to decide. What makes you think I‘m not qualified?”
“Well, age for one thing. Such a road, with so many creeps and dangerous weirdoes, heck! You got to have some experience.”
He looked at me and smiled.
It was then when I realized that this man was not in his 20s like I thought.
He was so old. In fact, so old that his skin was turning green! But his spirit was so young that it overshadowed everything.
I got confused, dazed a little. Even started getting a headache.
He interrupted my thoughts:
“You’re not ready. When your heart grows up, you can take this path.”
“How can I find you?”
“If your heart is grown, you will find me.”
He looked at the road, took a deep breath:
“This.”, pointing to the road, “Is the path of Love. When you take this path, be prepared for the worse, and have courage.”

His words stopped and his steps carried the talking. Never seen such sincere steps.
So he went, on the road, to be found, by hundreds of lovers to take this path.

And now, I’m waiting, for my heart to grow up, so that I can take that road, find him, and get to the crescent before it sets.

A Discussion

Note: a version of this is already circulating around the Net.

I�'m so tired�
�Tired of what?�
�Of all these people judging me.�
�Who judged you?�
�Like that woman, every time I sit with her, she tells me to wear hijab.�
�Oh, hijab and music! The mother of all topics!�
�Yeah! I listen to music without hijab�haha!�
�Maybe she was just giving you advice.�
�I don�t need her advice. I know my religion. Can'�t she mind her own business?�
�Maybe you misunderstood. She was just being nice.�
�Keeping out of my business, that would be nice...�

�But it'�s her duty to encourage you do to good.�
�Trust me. That was no encouragement. And what do you mean �"good" ?�
�Well, wearing hijab, that would be a good thing to do.�
�Says who?
��It'�s in the Qur'�an, isn�t it?��
�Yes. She did quote me something.�
��She said Surah Nur, and other places of the Qur�an.��
�Yes, but it�'s not a big sin anyway. Helping people and praying is more important.�
��True. But big things start with small things.��
�That�'s a good point, but what you wear is not important. What'�s important is to have a good healthy heart.�
��What you wear is not important?��
�That�s what I said.�
��Then why do you spend an hour every morning fixing up?��
�What do you mean?�
��You spend money on cosmetics, not to mention all the time you spend on fixing your hair and low-carb dieting.�
�So?��
�So, your appearance is important.�
�No. I said wearing hijab is not an important thing in religion.�
�If it'�s not an important thing in religion, why is it mentioned in the Holy Qur�an?�
�You know I can'�t follow all that�s in Qur�an.�
�You mean God tells you something to do, you disobey and then it�s OK?�
�Yes. God is forgiving.�
�God is forgiving to those who repent and do not repeat their mistakes.�
�Says who?�
�Says the same book that tells you to cover.�
�But I don�t like hijab, it limits my freedom.�
�But the lotions, lipsticks, mascara and other cosmetics set you free?! What�s your definition of freedom anyway?�
�Freedom is in doing whatever you like to do.�
�No. Freedom is in doing the right thing, not in doing whatever we wish to do.�
�Look! I�'ve seen so many people who don'�t wear hijab and are nice people, and so many who wear hijab and are bad people.�
�So what? There are people who are nice to you but are alcoholic. Should we all be alcoholics? You made a stupid point.�
�I don�t want to be an extremist or a fanatic. I�m OK the way I am without hijab.�
�Then you are a secular fanatic. An extremist in disobeying God.�
�You don�t get it, if I wear hijab, who would marry me?!�
�So all these people with hijab never get married?!�
�Okay! What if I get married and my husband doesn�'t like it? And wants me to remove it?�
�What if your husband wants you to go out with him on a bank robbery?!�
�That�s irrelevant, bank robbery is a crime.�
�Disobeying your Creator is not a crime?�
�But then who would hire me?�
�A company that respects people for who they are.�
�Not after 9-11�
�Yes. After 9-11. Don�'t you know about Rayhana who just got into med school? And the other one, what was her name, the girl who always wore a white hijab�...ummm��
�Yasmeen?�
�Yes. Yasmeen. She just finished her MBA and is now interning for GE.�
�Why do you reduce religion to a piece of cloth anyway?�
�Why do you reduce womanhood to high heals and lipstick colors?�
�You didn�t answer my question.�
�In fact, I did. Hijab is not just a piece of cloth. It is obeying God in a difficult environment. It is courage, faith in action, and true womanhood. But your short sleeves, tight pants��...
�That�s called �fashion�, you live in a cave or something? First of all, hijab was founded by men who wanted to control women.�
�Really? I did not know men could control women by hijab.�
�Yes. That�s what it is.�
�What about the women who fight their husbands to wear hijab? And women in France who are forced to remove their hijab by men? What do you say about that?�
�Well, that�'s different.�
�What difference? The woman who asked you to wear hijab...�she was a woman, right?�
�Right, but��
�But fashions that are designed and promoted by male-dominated corporations, set you free? Men have no control on exposing women and using them as a commodity?! Give me a break!�
�Wait, let me finish, I was saying��...
�Saying what? You think that men control women by hijab?�
�Yes.�
�Specifically how?�
�By telling women how and what to wear, dummy!�
�Doesn�'t TV, magazines and movies tell you what to wear, and how to be �attractive�?�
�Of course, it�'s fashion.�
�Isn'�t that control? Pressuring you to wear what they want you to wear?�
Silence
�Not just controlling you, but also controlling the market.�
�What do you mean?�
�I mean, you are told to look skinny and anorexic like that woman on the cover of the magazine, by men who design those magazines and sell those products.�
�I don'�t get it. What does hijab have to do with products.�
�It has everything to do with that. Don�'t you see? Hijab is a threat to consumerism, women who spend billions of dollars to look skinny and live by standards of fashion designed by men� and then here is Islam, saying trash all that nonsense and focus on your soul, not on your looks, and do not worry what men think of your looks.�
�Like I don'�t have to buy hijab? Isn�'t hijab a product?�
�Yes, it is. It is a product that sets you free from male-dominated consumerism.�
�Stop lecturing me! I WILL NOT WEAR HIJAB! It is awkward, outdated, and totally not suitable for this society ... Moreover, I am only 20 and too young to wear hijab!�
�Fine. Say that to your Lord, when you face Him on Judgment Day.�
�Fine.�
�Fine.�
Silence
�Shut up and I don�'t want to hear more about hijab schmijab Punjab!�
Silence.

She stared at the mirror, tired of arguing with herself all this time. Successful enough, she managed to shut the voices in her head, with her own opinions triumphant in victory on the matter, and a final modern decision accepted by the society, rejected by the Faith: "Yes" to curls on the hair, "no" to hijab.
�"And he[/she] is indeed a failure who stunteth it [the soul]"� Holy Qur�an, 091.010

Seven Marks

Five miserable people
Five murky moods
The sixth one, you shall find out.
The seventh one, will surprise you.

First one, his head on his knees
Weeping with anguish
Turning as if in great stomach pain;

“What happened?” I asked.
“Oh! My world has ended.” He sighed.
“It can’t be that bad. What is it?” I inquired.
"she said no”, he moaned.
“It’s OK. You can find another wife.” I smiled.
“No. No. Her mother said no.
We love each other so much.
I can’t imagine living with another woman.” He explained in pain.
“I’ll pray for you, insha’allah. Be strong. Love is a brick, it breaks your head and heart.” I didn’t know what else to say...

Second one, his knees on the ground
All strength was taken out of him
Could not stand up
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Oh! My world has ended.” He sighed.
“It can’t be that bad. What is it?” I inquired.
“I lost my job”, he moaned.
“It’s OK. You can find another job.” I smiled.
“No. No. It was my fault.
No one will hire me.” He explained in pain.
“I’ll pray for you, insha’allah. Be strong. The One who gave you teeth, will give you bread.” I didn’t know what else to say.

Third one, knees connected to her forehead
with her arm,
fist on the forehead
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Oh! My world has ended.” She sighed.
“It can’t be that bad. What is it?” I inquired.
“I lost my father”, She cried.
“It’s OK. We are from God, to Him we shall return.” I whispered in calm.
“No. No. My mother and I are now so lonely.” She explained in pain.
“I’ll pray for you, insha’allah. Be strong. The One who took your father, will be your protector.” I didn’t know what else to say.


Fourth one, head down, hands covering face
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Oh! My world has ended.” He sighed.
“It can’t be that bad. What is it?” I inquired.
“I am in such illness”, he moaned.
“It’s OK. Rest, you will be fine.” I smiled.
“No. No. There is no cure for this one.” He explained in pain.
“I’ll pray for you, insha’allah. Be strong. The One who afflicted you, will cure you.” I didn’t know what else to say.

By the time I reached the fifth one,
He was wiping his tears, smiling, taking a deep breath,
Looking up, eyes full of tears of joy, not despair.
Face forward, hands down, eyes open, chest up, shoulders relaxed.

"What happened?” I asked.

“My brother”, he replied, “head on knees, knees on ground, forehead on fist, hand on face, face down or face up, none helped me.”

“Then, what is your secret?” I was puzzled.

“When in pain, when is despair, when in agony,
Dive with your two knees, two palms, two toes, and your face,
all on the mud,
to your Creator,
the One who can unleash problems on you, or away from you.”
He then paused a moment and said: “But the problem that mankind unleashes on himself” those problems are the ones that shivers my heart.” He said with caution.
“What was your problem”, I asked
“You don’t worry about my problems, it has been taken care of.”
“Are you sure?” I was confused.
“My heart is sure” He was calm.
“What makes you so sure?” I challenged.
“Look! Can’t you see” Look! Over there, where I dived.”
I turned back and there they were
Shining like bright stars,
Seven brilliant marks on the mud.

“Now. My brother, what about you?” He asked with a calm tone
“Problems of this world worried you?” He asked this time with sarcastic tone
“Have you thought of your problem under that mud?” He asked this time with a serious tone.
The last question
a spear to my thoughts.
So I became the sixth one in agony
Diving on the mud
Making my seven marks.

Now, my dear reader, why are you so calm?
For every worldly problem, there is a solution. No need to mourn those.
For the problem of the grave? Oh the problem of the grave!
Be the seventh one, make the seven marks.

With His Name, the Most High!

In Your Name, The Most High, My Lord, The One!

"Allah is the Light of the Heavens and the Earth." Holy Qur'an

All Praise due to You, The One, The Light.
All peace due to our Prophet, Muhammad, his family and sincere companions and the martyrs of Islam, the ones who gave their life to keep Your Name up high.

My Lord, nothing higher than You.

My Lord, you have no son, no daughter, no competition, no associates,

My Lord, you do not need any of those.

We are the ones in need.

The eyes are amazed by Your Glory.
The tongue is frozen by Your Merci.
The ears are shocked by Your Pure Names.
The hands are shaking in thanking Your Grace.
The feet are weak in standing in Your Light.
The heart is troubled by Your Love.

My Lord.

All Glory is Yours.

The eyes that shed tears for other than You, let it be blind.
The tongue that mentions other than You, let it be mute.
The ears that hear other than You, let it be cut.
The hands that reach other than You, let it be short.
The feet that stand for other than You, let it be crippled.
The heart that loves other than You, let it be broken.

Without You, My Lord...
The gardens are gray.
The birds don't fly.
The sky is not high.
The heaven is an illusion.

Without You, My Lord.
Friends are enemies.
Sugar is bitter.
Honey is poison.
Food is hunger.

Without You, My Lord,
The sun is nothing but a dark spot in the sky.
The moon is nothing but an insult to the night.
The stars are nothing but little stains in the dark.

Without You, My Lord,
Water is not clear.
Life is full of fear.
Eyes have no tear.

However,
My Lord,
The One,
The Compassionate.

With You,

Poison is medicine.
Fire is cold and peaceful.
Ocean is open and dry.
Broken hearts are healed.
Ccrippled feet run towards You.
Sshort hands try to reach You.
Tears try to say :
"Can I meet You?"

With You,
Life is full of meaning....

My Lord!

Do not leave us to ourselves.
Do not leave us alone.
Do not leave us among these wolves.
These who have no gift but deception, no friendship but betrayals, no words but lies.

In this darkness,
In the jungle of desires,
Do not leave us alone

Hold our hands,
or else we shall fall,
and fall
and fall
and fall

You,
Glory to You.
Even though we do not deserve it,
be with us

Who else other than You?
You are The One.

Would You leave Your slaves who are calling upon You day and night?

No

Never

Glory to You

You keep your promises

It is us who break them

Glory to You

Do not leave us alone.