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.

Wish I was there (anywhere)

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

At the risk of sounding ungrateful - I am thankful for the sunlight streaming through our windows this morning, of the promise of a fresh, fall day (even though I will not be able to enjoy it much because of two very sick kids); thankful that my children will, God willing, get better, and that we have many, many blessings .....

I still long to be smack dab in the middle of this photograph. The point is that right now, I am not eager to be here, where I am, because of the chores that are already filling every nook and cranny of this Sunday; the realization that all the pounds that fell off in Ramadan are piling on once more (my exercise machine still folded neatly in its box; who knows when it will come out and if I'll be able to use it to total satisfaction without infuriating someone), and the fact that I have so much school work to do (oh, never did update my profession on this blog - I am now a full-time grade two teacher - more on that another time!!!! How did that happen?!!!)

So, my intellect is starving for mental stimulation. Yesterday, there were three workshops at the writer's fest I longed to attend, but no luck. I managed a 10 minute jaunt around the neighbourhood while Dad and Brother watched the girls, one cranky, one bubbly. I am grateful for that.......

But a winter that looms is hardly a comforting thought. Shuttling back and forth from school in the blizzard like conditions seems rather uncomfortable and then of course, the question - are we here to be comfortable? Of course not, discomfort, if tied to the remembrance of the One Who Can Remove all discomforts may actually be a good thing. We are not masters or mistresses (sigh) of our own universes. We must submit to the Will of the Creator. Hence, I have not exercised in over two months and it is driving me batty.

Hence, so much that I long to do but the acceptance that it is not for now, maybe never. Remember, mom. The symbol of patience in the face of God's Will - and the realization that I can't be in the photograph, because that isn't my destiny.

I thank my Creator for all that I have or don't have. He is the Most Wise, and Knows what's best for this miserable heart.

Random thoughts on fall

I was listening to the radio yesterday, and they interviewed a writer who had come very close to dying twice (he was in a semi-coma for 11 days at one point). At the end of the conversation, the interviewer asks him if his experiences shed any light on what comes after death. He quoted June Callwood and Carol Shields who both said that there was nothing after this world, and that the point was to just enjoy life to the fullest and expect little more than fuzzy gray after its over.

I couldn't disagree more, and this is why:

"Blessed be He in Whose hands is Dominion: and He over all things hath Power; He Who created Death and Life the may try which of you is best in deed: and he is the Exalted in Might, Oft-Forgiving;.... " (Qur'an, chapter 67:1-2)
We're here to be tested - to see who will struggle for goodness - the goodness within his or her soul, and who will struggle to see the triumph of good over evil in the world around us. As simple as a cartoon, but far more real.
"Nor can a soul die except by God's leave, the term being fixed as by writing. Many do desire a reward in this life, we shall give it to them, and if any do desire a reward In the hereafter, we shall give it to them. And swiftly shall we reward those that (serve us with) gratitude. "(Qur'an, Chapter 3:145)

Gratitude is another big factor of our existence. Are we grateful for the bounties we have? Are we grateful to the Creator who Provided us with all of this - we could never make the rain fall on pastures where the crops are. Not me, not Bill Gates, nor Obama, nor anyone but the One who put us on earth to “Eat of the good things wherewith We have provided you, and render thanks to God if it is (indeed) He whom you worship” (Qur'an, 2:172).

I wrote about dying with a quiet dignity, with a beauty that reflects an inevitable phase throughout the entire natural world - but it must be said that the transition from this world to the next is also a painful one. Even the Prophets suffered; Prophet Muhammad, may peace be upon him, had fever for several days and was sweating in pain as his soul departed - all while he was asking God to be in the uppermost Heaven. He died in the arms of his beloved wife, A'isha.

* * *

Once I witnessed the quiet passing of a man who was living in the hospital where my mother lives. He had been there 17 years, ever since being in an accident that paralyzed him almost completely. His name was Frank. He couldn't speak, he could barely move, and he stayed this way for all those years. His mother was his constant companion. Whenever I used to visit, he would smile. In fact, he would smile to anyone who said a nice word to him.

The week of his death, his breath became slower, heavier. Everyone knew it was coming. Whenever I would visit mom, I would pass by his room, to see how he was doing. I would find his mother, his sister, sometimes other family members; all waiting for the moment, wanting to be there, to witness it.

But when it happened, only a few nurses, his mother and sister were there. And me. We all watched as his slow, labouring breath got shallower and shallower. Like a frail bird, his body was almost twisted on the bed, frozen as it had been frozen 17 years ago. I prayed with the others as we waited - not sure for what, but waited.

And then, after a breath, and nothing, his mother leaned over his face, and said, "he is gone, I think he is gone." It happened in such a tiny, minute instant, that the realization of what we had all just witnessed could barely set in. A moment ago, his soul was still amongst us - now, it was somewhere else, somewhere we couldn't fathom.

All I could feel, though, was peace. Frank had submitted to God's will. He left this world without bitterness, without desire, without wanting what was not his. He left this world in submission.

This is the blazing colour that stains the dying leaves. The beauty of death. Our skin will be pale, our bodies might be frail, but I pray that we depart from this world in pure submission to the One Who Created us. This is the ultimate success.

“And let me not be in disgrace on the Day when humanity will be raised up, The Day whereon neither wealth nor children will avail, But only those that come to God with a pure heart; it is they who will prosper”. (Qura’n 26: 87-89)

When the reality dawns

In the name of God, Most Merciful, Most Kind

* * *

The crisp night air

surrounds me

Cutting through thoughts

of worldly concern

It isn't unfamiliar

My skin has felt this before

Many times

But I didn't really notice

Worldly concerns too thick around me

But this bite that turns leaves

red

Marks the passage of time

And once more

I am alone

As the leaves swirl

And my concerns twist with them

But the wind settles.

And the leaves are lifeless.

Brilliant colour

fades.

Detours, deep uncertainty

In the name of God, Most Merciful, Most Kind

* * *

Sometimes I just try not to think anymore. It helps ease the moment to moment disturbances that stir waters seemingly calm but which conceal deep currents, carrying creatures with potential venom.

At the end of the day one wonders if doing what others want you to do can and will achieve peace -- if you do it to honour family members and such. Or, does the inner voice that oscillates between trepidation, intense interest, passion, passivity need a custom response - sometimes beyond the comprehension of those you love. Does that inner voice take precedence? Or not?

The great women of this faith -- they were living, breathing, human beings who had tendencies that were not flawless. Just the other day, I heard a story about one of the wives of the Prophet, may peace be upon them, who had followed him one day, thinking that he was going to visit another wife and responding to the jealousy that coursed through her. She followed him and found him at the gravesite, praying for the souls of those who had passed away. Without letting on her presence, she returned home quickly, pretending to be asleep when her husband returned. He knew that she had followed him, but played along --- "where were you?" she reportedly asked; one can imagine the wide-eyed innocence."You don't know?" asked the Prophet, likely with his beautiful smile. 

Real. Those women were real. Why then, are we expected to be beyond real? To be super-women - responding to house, family and internal struggles with a smile that is as present as the sun in a Southern summer. Clouds are forbidden - a sign of ungratefulness, of course. No chance for exhaustion - because one hardly does what the others do, and if one is exhausted - it is your own fault for trying to do so much. Okay, where's the meat and chicken then? Nothing to show for the coming week's meals, and I was too silly to think to pick it up on the way home. Yeah, okay.

So all of this is about people who expect too much. Perhaps me first, but I can't shake the feeling that others refuse to acknowledge my capacity and instead try to shape me and perhaps others into a mould that was never meant for me.

My eyes droop as I write. I swear I work hard for my family. And I'm sure so do others in it. But why must we participate in a tit-for-tat? Why can't we respect each other's space? Why can't we share successes and failures - mutually, full of support?

I don't know if this is a local - global thing, or just my challenge to solve.

Anyway, I'll think about it later.