('finalized' version)

           -Over My Grave.

     "I know  not what I could have
                        been, but feel
       I am not what I should be--let it end."
                                                 -Lord Byron
         (to my sister, Fowsia)

Let there be no pretense to sadness,
       or  mourning in vain
Over this my humble grave---my
       long-lost home where at last I
           return
To---where all content lived before
      ambition drove us all insane,
For it's been this grave  I deeply yearn:
I'll care little to cherish, if I could,
       beyond this my very grave,
So much of loss and sorrow has
       been my lot,  the pain undue,
And this world, to me,  has been too
      cold to care, with nothing ultimately
         to save;
From the wealthy trouble undue,
      from the tender-hearted love untrue:
I've seen 'the wise' gather and rule
       perforce
For a tyrant-prince---a dishonest
       man without clue or conscience
Stubbornly pursue to **** his own
       wife,  even after divorce;
Insisting it's of a high 'state need'--so
        atrocious;
No, I'm glad to be home, dear sister,
        to my  sweet nature:
Glad,  glad to awaken at last, glad
        that an unkind world leaves me
           to my dream;
Done, done away with  fast-fading world
      with foredoomed pretense to love and
          adventure;
Glad to awaken from childish
      nightmare, again to be  a real Hakim.

                                           -by
                                 Hakim H. Kassim.
                                 (March 03, 2025/Jigjiga)

Too many gave deeply thought,
  Too many have come and gone,
Too many in dreams truly sought,
  For you to have it lost or won.

Too many climb-up their dreams light
  If only too fast they're washed ashore--
Or left out to be 'acquinted with the
          night,'
With no second chance, beaten to the
          core.

And too many have put their hearts with
         trust
  In brute, brute another's heart,
In the end with no love but driven to
        dust--
  Having foregone any chance to restart.

For too many fail of us to give another
  Try, too readily to treat with hate
The lover with whom they felt together:
  For too many of us lose lest we cannot
         await.

                            -by Hakim H. Kassim.

2025.
a new year dawned casual and high,
but  that  I felt a sullen note of good-bye,

embellished with a truer joy than the
     whole world
could give,  yet I saw we took another
      year for granted despite this cold

lonely world,  and as others went 'happy'
     around with balloons decorous,
nature slip me into a new turn all
     anonymous;

and so all welcomed a new year, smiles
     flowery,
while I was beginning to negotiate an
      end of journey--

isn't a true joy, then, that year anew
with 2025 come with adieu and final
        end?

                      -by Hakim Kassim
                       (Jan.25.2025/Jgjga)

(for  Agere)

for your casual caresses, to soothe
the daily tread , and make smooth

this cold, cold world for poor soul of me;
for that ever-ready smile that drives me

on by the hour; that look in your eyes,
and for that knowing touch that sways
      away all my 'whys;'

for Time and Space which only draw us
          together
and for all the reasons that make us
          see one  in the other:

I'm thankful to all Nature and Chance
to keep us in that moment that saw us
         together at once.

                    -by Hakim H. Kassim.
                       (May 19, 2025)

This is what happens when your own
         past--
Twisting and turning with you at some
         midnight hour-
  Becomes you, all over again at once,
          all too fast,
Overlapping you,  heart and soul,
          strenuous in power;
   Precious memories posted in
         unchartered  future;
Each note of thought  wearily clings, too
         often
  But a scene with  yourself,  demanding
         an answer,
Yet within past  content, drifting you to
         give-in, just to soften
  The unintelligable  trail, past wishes
         revived in ardor:
For, without  pain of the past, can
        there be possibility of  a future?

            
                                       -by
                          HAKIM H. KASSIM.
                           (d. March 25, 2024)

Eyes I saw full of me,
  Blue, or brown, these now pass by me,
The lore of Love thus defined
Remains unspoken,  though refined:
  'To where is he gone,'  she in muttering
            tone asks;
We've left so much for  the WASPS;
  Now, retreated for  Allah's sake,
Where can I, for her,  make the bake?
  Nor for love, where to rest and reign--
To escape all of pain?  Ya. RABBI, hello,
            and Your saints,
Yes, we're your guests--
  Should we have to pay for our souls,
So exploited within these walls?

                        -by Hakim H. Kassim.

Wild wishes, too high for worldly tries,
Celestial glows that do not fit into time
      and place,
  Lost love's tormented hopes and cries,
Come with fresh face at my dooryard.

Wild wishes, desires that cannot be
      quenched in poor world's weak  arms,
Joys treading my footsteps  from Heaven
       above,
    All my loves long ago, my sweet heart-
        felt  urges,
  Of all I ever seek, of all I ever wanted in
         heart,
Beckon to lead me to Higher Houses of
        content.

  Wild wishes, her face, her eyes, and the
         love I have for her,
Feelings I cannot put aside no matter
        what,
  The deep-felt dream of uniting with her
        in  truth,
She comes to me riding high on Wild
       Wishes for my  hand!

                                                 -by
                                     Hakim H. Kassim.