Tell me

In the name of God, Most Merciful, Most Kind,

* * *

Tell me you have something to do,

Tell me you'll be back later

Tell me you've got a job somewhere

Tell me I've got to get supper

Call me after it's all done

Call me when there's nothing more

Call me when the clutter's gone

Call me when I've controlled the roar

Wait until I'm ready

Wait until I'm calm

Wait for the moment my anger and rage

Have been soothed by Faith's balm.

Wish I was there

"Labaykal lahuma labayka. Labayka la shareeka laka labbayka. Innal hamdawan ni’imata, laka wal mulk, la sharikalah."

“Here I am at Your service, O God! You have no partner; Here I am at Your service, O God. Verily, all the praise, the grace belongs to You. And the Kingdom, You have no partner.”

Body of a bird

In the name of God, Most Merciful, Most Kind,

* * *

Surrounded by mist,

That is clearing,

and

The softness of a

rain,

I am here

while my soul longs

to merge with the simplicity of

God's creatures

Flying

in the body of a bird

But not

in that of a crow's.

Missing mom

In the name of God, Most Merciful, Most Kind,

* * *

It was nice to be with you tonight,

To see my reflection in the black

surrounded by flecks of green that turn blue

Bright

And I tried to share a life so remote

from your existence.

I held up broken mirrors to a past

that still pokes through

the disconnected thoughts

that jumble

Making it hard for you to say

words that

stop somewhere

before they can be heard.

I liked being with you

Just me and you,

Like before marriage

and children

and work

and all of this chaotic business

separated us.

Though we've been separated before

And by God's mercy

You are never alone.

But you and me

we have

butter and honey sandwiches,

french fries,

sizing up dresses that would make Dad's bills overflow,

and running for the bookstore.

We have that and so much more

and mom

I love you.

I love you.

And I pray that we really will go shopping in Heaven,

both of us,

33.

_____

"In Paradise there is a market to which the people will come every Friday. The northern wind will blow and shower fragrance on their faces and clothes and, consequently, it will enhance their beauty and loveliness. . ." Narrated by Prophet Muhammad, may peace be upon him, in the Book of Muslim.

From the summer: On the water's edge

Yesterday, I would have come

here with you,

And you would have been here, next to me

as I stepped from

rock to jagged

rock.

Searching for flat surfaces, but longing

to reach the

edge,

Where I could turn my back

and hear only God's creation,

Splashing against the shore.

But

buckets of emptiness

create similar sounds

and I wonder

if it is my fault?

Is it because I choose not to conform to another

standard that

I fail to make this 'us'

work?

Does letting my mind drift to where

bubble wands and rainbows unite

mean

I am not ready to embrace a stronger,

better

reality?

Am I holding foam?

Does this mean my surrender has too many conditions,

and so isn't really surrender?

So maybe all the gates I've gone through have only allowed me

to circle a wide

expanse that I still have not entered and in this march towards

my Creator,

my innermost desires, and my deepest, hidden faults are manifest;

acting as a barrier

to the wide, clear expanse,

I long to reach.