"To part at last
      without kiss,
 Beside the haystack
       in the floods."
          -William Morris.

I cannot give you
   reasons enough,
I do not myself
   understand

The loud lover,
     praying in sin,
Or the pain of those
     who sin in prayer.

A good-bye hurts a
    hundred times
       more,
Emptying the soul,
    embittering the
       heart,

Much more than a
    fatal spear-wound
       would.
The happy love is
    flown, a by-gone
        glow;

Locked in memory's
    gloomy corridors;
A mere past, life
   imprisoned in grief;

Robbed of fulfillment,
    future condemned
       to tears,
Gazing sadly over the
   prey of previous
      existence.

A good-bye hurts.

snow-windy.
ice in raindrops.
hefty ventures.
brookner, anita:
latecomers '89.
thomasses,
just too many.
mind-plays.
churning hopes.
wrestle.
some way out.
'i did love her then!'
mind-quake.
regroup.
by-gones.
grave-yard stuff.
'oh, now: you & i.'
     -by Hakim Kassim.

Come, O come!

Come and see
   how I cry
Forever without
   tears,
And the years
   wane and wax,
With me waiting
   for you;

Come and see
   this soul
That has yet to
   learn to laugh,
And how life
   wears
On a heart
   wandering
     meaningless
       in Time;

Without your
    sound and
      soul;
I am the heart
   that beats loud,
Waking up
   Bodari among
     the dead,
Waving for the
   ghost of Romeo;

I am the blood
   that runs fast,
Leaving the
   familiar and
     the known,
Believing in the
    uncertain to
      come as
        Reality:

I hope to see
    soon
The Light to my
    Life,
The tender tears
   to my thirsty
     eyes.

'Yet in the Dark!'
    Yet in the dark,
       alone in the dark!
There I hear the loud
     lonely bark
From hopes gone
    with many years,
Yesterday's passions
    dead with heavy
       tears;
The high-held dreams,
     long wont to roam--
The noisy joys that
     were my own--
Yet now I only see
     them there when
         alone
In the dark, in
     silence to moan,
And weak in word,
     yet high in heart,
Explain to the young
     boy I once was
        and now apart,
The tumult of time,
     the shade of years،
The unforgiving
     passage and of
       unshed tears!

You coud cut the
  distance then
Between us, and now
   you come when
I have left the living
   years of times ago,
Together we had shared
   no tomorrow,
Only too many todays,
Oh, our ****** father
   and his ways!
So much lost in the rain,
We now shake over in
   pain!
A world of give, and no
   receive!
In silence we look, in
     sacrifise conceive--
Loved faces are gone,
Here, new ones in our
   ways!
  
-d. September 13, 2016.

In a world of dying
Meant to hide its meaning,

There are no highs,  no heroes,
No sweets, baby, only woes--

Sufferings  you gently leave at once.
Death comes to you only by chance,

Never till  you feel complete and ready
      to go,
The Killing Angel stands sleepless and
      on the go;

High and twice  above the clouds by
      measure
Is his knee, collecting souls at pleasure;

Throwing this to speeding cars,
And that to stupid wars,

And, whatever the reason he gives,
He nonetheless just takes.

No use! all love is but a preparation
For something there's  got to be for a
       notion,

Yet you and I must be content with the
        end
Of Love as 'streaming eyes' and with
       nothing to amend!
                   -by Hakim Kassim.
                   (d. September 10,  2016)

"By foriegn hands thy dying
         eyes were closed,
By foriegn hands thy decent
         limbs composed,
By foriegn hands thy humble
          grave adorned,
BY STRANGERS HONORED,
          AND BY STRANGERS
              MOURNED."
   (emphasis supplied)
          -Alexander pope."Elegy
           to the Memory of an
           Unfortunate Lady;" at
           Line 51.

Pardon this heart that
       gloomily bounced,
That it may in this life's long
        night
Restored somehow be to
        household of peace,
Which, in grave or before,
Can give relief to owner's
                pain:
   >It is concerned tears that
           aflame flow,
   >Which render fatal fears
           so nearly real.

                    i.
From when reason first
     stroke the race on Solon's
              tongue,
Strong stood and made its
      roars heard,
To the ears of that trouble-
      gotten Hellenic year,
Whose winter of rage
       brought drought to
            intellect,
Convenience wounds it at
         chance in every age:
   >If 'winning' we see
          when guns roar,
   >Then dark be right, we to
          all beauty blind!

                      ii.

(for Sulekha Amin
     Omar)
"Omnia vincit amor."
                    -Virgil.

I see vast seas asleep
     in your eyes;
And mere smiles
    that pour joy into
       my heart,
I see in you a blessed
    beauty unknown up
      till now!    

I see you as the sun
     treads westward,
And arrows spread as
     blind sky reflects
I see you alone among
     all who under the
       sky live!

I see the delight you
      bring to a troubled
        spirit
And see the dawn of
    New Spring as you
      in my thoughts
       come ,
I see you all the time,
   Darling, lest I Love
      You forevermore!
                
       -by Hakim Kassim.
        (d. Dec.12.1989)

(for K. Briggs, Portsmouth)

     All that ever was
        joyous, and clear
         and fresh,
     [your] music doth
        surpass "
             -Percy Shelley.

I do not know the
   reason why
The world turns with
   me when you walk
         by,

With a thousand
     words scarred
        across your face,
Breaking down my
    defense with a
      casual gaze.

Morning or evening
   when you walk by,
My heart skips a beat,
   lost in the 'you-and-
        I;'

With your light step a
  vivid link to a higher
     grace--
At a different time, at
     a different place!

Your eyes turn away
   as you pass, as if we
      were kidding one
         another,
As if no two were
   meant to be
     together!

You go your way,
   leaving me lost and
     amazed:
So much said in so
   little expressed!

      -by Hakim Kassim.
      (d.January, 2000)

"Je pense donc je
        suis."
         -Descartes, 1637

You'll never know,
Though forever
         wonder

Of the day of your
         feast!
It's an unknown
         moment

In the long annals
Of the Universe's
         clock;

And you blame
          things--
People, places,
         principles,

For not giving you
        enough,
Or not giving you at
        all.

In fact, you're to
       blame:
The sheep with the
    scar,

Cleaning out with
   naive acts
What might have
   been of use to you;

Your mind and body
   fight,
Fight, because that's
   all they do,

That's all they CAN
   know!
Ah, such Cartesian
   discovery:

One set against the
   other,
Without end or
   result;

For evermore, like
   ebb and flow;
Day and night, up
   and down.

Was Jesus the
   solving synthesis--
Sprite or Spirit? He
  came and left--sole
        individual!

Dualism yet persists,
   as before:
Keep reigning as
  King in your 'mind,'

Though to 'matter'
   you're
One among six
  billion hapless faces!
 
  -by Hakim Kassim.
  (d. November, 1988)