Walking Tragedies

Another explosion, another manmade calamity

Blood spattered, limbs gathered

A fire of misplaced religion

Burning under the pot of life

Stirred with a trident of divinity

Feeding the ravenous appetite of death

Mourning mothers over the shredded bodies of their sons

Grieving fathers staring down the smoldering barrels of guns

Startled children, struck by calamity, away they run

Questioning fate, questioning religion, weren’t they supposed to just have fun?

There is a smell of death in this air

Muffled sobs, the warmth of plentiful tears

Another knot in the throat, but no reason left to care

An accusatory stare at the face of divinity

A screaming frown painted in a multitude of questions

Along come the Good Samaritan suggestions

They say swallow it, accept it as a hiccup of fate

Their souls have fled, waiting at the heaven’s gate

Accept it as God’s will, it is not too late

Lift up the pieces, begin anew

Only if these voices will stop pretending like they knew

Knew how it felt to wake up to a sorrow’s bloom

Broken pieces of life scattered in a storm of gloom

The hereafter is a promise, but today is a grim reality

Left with a house of bricks in the aftermath of tragedy

Reaching for impossibilities in a sea of depravity

God, forgive them for doubting your magnanimity

It’s their sorrow to embrace, for an eternity

My Chalice of Despair

Do I not shed a tear and hold my heart fast
While my whole being stands petrified and aghast
A world that came stumbling down at last
Crushing the very walls of my conscience
With a pitiful horror struck by a graceful stance

A hankered nomadic rendezvous with fate
Locking talons with the impossibilities of life
Struck in the soul with the trident of reality
Defeated, annihilated, left to bleed
A downward spiral, a race to eternal repent

A craving takes birth in my shallow hope
A final, desperate, inept attempt at amend
But lost was the will, crumpled under gloom
I lay shattered at the doorstep of my destiny
With wishful eyes staring at the happy world of a better man

The paragon of my imagination, curled up in his arms
The shrine of my bliss, the joy of my existence
Laying draped in the mirthful integuments of his embrace
Jubilant, ecstatic, elated and peaceful
A picture so perfect, but I do not belong.

Looking back at me were eyes so aloof
So blind to my pain, to my agonizing misery
Nonchalant to what I held, deep in the dungeons of my heart
Was my mask of glee too hard to evade?
Or were those soul-searching eyes happy to ignore?
The constant longing, the mournful shrieks of pain

Left with the pleasantries of custom
A perfect mouthful of glazed words
Glazed with the sugars of the expected embrace
The heartwarming promises of a better tomorrow
The hurtful realities of my never ending sorrow

Monster

In the dark confines of his fate

Curled up in a corner

A glaring pothole in the beautiful pathway of life

Every passenger spends a moment

A brief interest, coupled soon with judgment

A moment of amazement at his monstrosity

He looks back smiling,

For his own sake, making light of the situation

The patchwork of spirit, means nothing to this world

This ugly façade choking his soul

A forlorn cry; echoing in despair

Rotting in the limelight of scrutiny

Pinning him to the wall, are looks of disgust

A contemptuous barrage of disapproval

He is the bitter, the sour

The unbearable taste on the palate of this world

Eternity in a Moment

Acquiescing to the whispers of revolt

Taking steps in the direction of pleasure

Working the intricacies of finding right in an error

Justifications ran plenty

But conformation felt empty

A long look in the mirror

Met by a piercing glare of conscience

A raucous flood of divine reason

As if flowing from the gates of heaven

Delivering me at the altar of a guilt so morbid

A sudden avalanche of remorse

My heels digging this earth, my fingers grabbing the walls

An attempt to bring my world to a screeching halt

The mortar of life trudged under my nail beds

The balm of triumph soothing the cracks in my heels

Another episode of uncertainty

Etched in skin, along the hallway of life

Realities

I saw her battle it out against the higher powers

The love in this air; her only armor

I witnessed fate strike a blow

Leaving her senseless, gasping for hope

In a panic of delusions

She thought of her decisions

A solemn realization of mistakes

A herd of guilt, swimming in an ocean of angst

A world of explanations, mingling with grains of pain

I saw her rush to the start of it all, wanting it to end

She put her hand to her chest

As if wanting to pull her heart out

Watch it beat to the rhythm of her doom

Her self-respect crumbling to its tune

A beautiful perfect world of make believe

Crashing at the feet of reality

She hurriedly stumbled to find an end to her pain

Submitting to the will of time, she fell

A deflated, hollow shell of a lost love

Her fingertips bathing in a pond of defeat

Her heels bruised with shame

Her head tilted, as if in a slumber

I found her in the lonely arms of surrender

Longing

A fleeting twinkle of hope,

In the arid desert of my heart

Expectations flutter like a thread

Swayed by the strong winds of change

So I hold my heart fast to give it hope

Give it strength to carry me through this

Lifeless mornings and at night I mourn

I’m losing my soul to the depths of this grief

I believe in making it through this storm

Like hope held by a desolate shrub in sand

I long for a touch, a deathly night seeking light

I seek an embrace, like a rock seeks rain;

Under the scorching sun of fate

Every crevice of my thought;

The essence of my being

This life that I breathe

Bathes in the basking glory of your thoughts

And I seek a remedy in vain

Trying to find a way to remain sane

But I fail at every attempt of closure

A wandering soul devoid of essence.

Death of a Dream

Hush, don’t make a sound

The hand on your neck is mine

Breathe easy and don’t close your eyes

I would love to do this with your eyes looking into mine

Stop, stop fighting it,

Your time has come my dear, this too shall end

The story I wrote for you, was never bleak,

It didn’t include a morbid twist, neither a deceitful subplot

A perfect morsel of mediocrity, spiced with joy

I created you, nurtured you, and sheltered you

I am the reason for your existence

You are beautiful, exquisite, oh so lively

The times we’ve shared together,

The moments we have spent alone

I will cherish them like flowers on my grave

Oh I see, I can see your eyes bulging,

This fear consuming you

You’re dying, it’s becoming a reality,

No I can’t ease up, but please, don’t look away

Meet my gaze halfway, you’re making this harder than it needs to be

You have to go, please, please stop clinging

Can you see me smiling at you? I don’t believe you can, not anymore

You are dead my dear friend, buried in the graveyard of my dreams

Know that you aren’t alone, neither the last one.  Oh no, you aren’t.

You are special, I swear you are, its exactly what I’ve told’em all.

Unsung Freedom

so i wrote this one back in the day. i knew some guy who had a huge deal going on with his family and one day he just ended it all and shot himself.. so i wrote this one about that.

Doomed and dejected
He felt so rejected
Massacred were his emotions
Ripped of thought and resolution.

He cried help to deaf ears
He sighed loud and moaned worse
He bled inside and wept in-sight
The day was a curse and night was worse

As gloom took over
And seeped into his senses
The walls grew nearer
And the shadows grew taller

As suffering grew insane
Hope crippled under strain
And everything humane
Lost its cause and seemed in vain

Calamitous appeared it all
Imperiled and grotesque
He put an end to this life
With the cure called death.

Broken were the shackles of humanity
As his soul fled physicality
An oasis he had found
To nirvana he was bound.

Nonchalant were mere humans
To the harm they had done
Another life ended
Another story told.

The Funeral

After Jumma prayer yesterday, Imam asked us to stay for the funeral prayer for a sister.  The Imam said that the sister did not know anyone in the community, and if possible; we should stay for the funeral prayer and accompany her body to the graveyard.   I figured that since Friday is a working day, not many people would be able to go with the body to the burial site.  Since I am on my semester break, I decided I will definitely go to the graveyard.  When I came out and we started driving away, it was heartwarming to see at least 40 cars following the lead car.  In a world where everyone is out to cut ahead of the next guy, a world where people put time on a pedestal and worship it like a deity, here were about 60 people who were going to the funeral of a person they never knew.  A person they had no emotional attachment to but the fact that this person belonged to the same religion as their own.  If you had asked the sister before she died, whether she expected people to accompany her body and bury it with all the respect and honor every human deserves, she would have doubted the possibility of it happening.

I did not know the sister but I’m sure she must have once had a family, had parents, siblings, cousins or friends.  And to think of her dying in Toledo, all alone, with not a single person around that knew her is heart breaking.  Maybe some people she had gotten to know in her life were already dead, or some didn’t know of her demise or maybe some just didn’t care that she had passed away.  And it was sad to see her casket lowered 6 feet under with no one but strangers surrounding her.

This whole episode made me think about my own life and where it is leading me.  We always hear people in Khutba’at and Duroos talking about how our eeman and deeds are the only things that go with us to our graves.  We can’t control who is going to show up to our funeral, we can’t control if we will even have a proper funeral, but what we can control is how we live our lives and prepare for the hereafter.  I’m sure that when this sister’s body was lowered into the grave yesterday, her soul’s only concern was how it would respond to the questions that will be asked of her. She will be asked questions about how she protected her eeman, and whether she had spent her time wisely; as an obedient servant of Allah (swt).

We learn lessons in life every day.  Most of the lessons we learn are mostly about how to live our life better in this world.  Rarely though, does one come across something like this.  I don’t know if anyone of you has ever seen someone getting buried, but if you haven’t, make sure you do that pretty soon.  You will realize that when you are eased six feet under in your wooden casket, you aren’t protected by your social status or higher education.  Everything you have worked for in this world; your house, that fancy car, the dollar amount in your bank account, everything is left behind.  What we take from this world with us is our actions and our beliefs.  Of the 24 hours a day we spend building our lives in this world, the only useful time we take with us is the hour that takes us to pray 5 times a day.  Allah (swt) has left us clues to His greatness and our destiny all throughout this universe.  It is up to us to see them and help ourselves down the right path.

Childbirth

I was watching a movie last night with a few friends.  It so happened that all of them were girls, and when the movie cut to a scene of a woman giving birth, something awkward happened.  The scene involved the woman giving birth in some quite funny circumstances.  While the girls cringed in pain at the sight of every push the woman tried to make, I had a goofy smile on my face just enjoying the whole thing like it was nothing.  After watching the apparent disgust and terror on their faces, I decided to show my sensitive side and said, “ooh, that looks uncomfortable”.  There was a brief lull, then a few accusatory/WTF stares and then a whole lot of, “uncomfortable?  Uncomfortable?!?!?!?!???”

This brings us to an important point.  Guys have NO idea how painful childbirth could be.  I mean we could pretend like we have an idea, we can also pretend like we feel your pain, but we don’t.  Ladies, we can’t feel your pain OK, it’s the same way you can’t feel how it feels like to be kicked in the family jewels.  We are oblivious!  About as oblivious about it as Courtney Love is about love itself (She killed Cobain, that bitch!).  I think every mother needs a round of applause every morning for what they go through.  We really do appreciate what you do, and looking at it just sounds pretty excruciatingly painful, but we really have no idea (or desire) to feel or understand what childbirth really feels like.

All of this makes me think; what would have happened if men had to give birth instead of women?  And the answer is; NOTHING!  The human race will soon end because quite honestly, us men aren’t into pain.  I have hair on my feet, and this one summer, the hair would constantly break and cause little infections on the top parts of my feet.  My sister had the great idea of waxing the hair off.  I stupidly agreed.  I screamed and writhed in pain like a little monkey on crack getting his leg chopped off.  I have never felt such intense pain in my life and I will never let my sister talk me into anything like that (screw the infections!).  So if that hurt so much, I wonder (actually I don’t wonder) how much childbirth would hurt.  What?  Carry around a rock in my stomach? for 9 months? And then just push it out?  I don’t want kids baby, let’s just buy a house on the west coast and settle down!  Forget kids! Bunch of annoying little critters anyway!

So the point is……Women and men are different.  You have problems that we don’t.  We feel bad that you have these problems ladies but trust us, deep down, we thank God EVERYDAY for making us men!  Being chased around without being absolutely/ridiculously good looking sounds enticing; but not enough to make me push a rock out from in between my legs.  No way in heaven, or hell.