I wanted to write a poem
Of You
That does not
Include me
But my first word here was
I and I
Want to say I’m sorry
But that’s also about me

You Oh Lord
Are beyond words
Anyway
Even the prettiest
Are shabby
Compared to Your Heart
Of love

Even words that sound
The same
As their meaning –
Scrumptious, Graceful
Sweetheart –
Are clumsy and ugly
Compared to
Your name

Words as fragrant
As their flowers –
Carnations, violets,
Goldenrods,
Dahlias –
Wither as weeds
When Your warmth
Radiates as midday
From the pages of Your Book

A poem of You
Needs only one word
Or ninety-nine
And it is finished

Shaytan murmured
Write a poem about her!
I started
Words flowed
And were good

A muse! Such allure!

“You came and stood close
And I so wished my eyes
Weren’t red
From writing
My lecture
Late at night”

Allah said
Don’t type any more

So I didn’t

It wasn’t good

I dragged the cursor
Across the rest
With restraint and
What-ifs
Then tapped

Delete

In a desert midnight no darker than dawn
With cloudless heavens evident and stretching
To the edges of Bedouins’ minds and ours
Where owls govern with Your permission

You plunged a mighty fist deep
Into the heart and gripped a molten rag
And pulled it into a peak of crags
In which the **** You wanted grew

With a rush of wind you shaped that
Tear into a world-sized hollow to shelter
A man and a starfilled future for any who
Might accept what tugged at him that night

You once said Be! and time commenced
But earlier you had chosen from first
Until final a stream of Rusul and You placed
In that cleft the last Rasul alone but never

And in the radiance of a challenging word
Your spirit whose wings dripped pearls
Asked the silent one who sailed in prayer
To revolve the world on a different axis

Running feet across the earth carried him
To the comfort of arms that felt a beating
Chest bursting with ten million truths and her
Assurances trounced the whisperer’s last ditch

Words of mercy flow around us through a gentle
Heart in a stone cavity in the shade of a night
Without shadows beneath a cloudless cover
Which owls rule ... for a shrinking time

When I let my eyes

fall
           into
                       its
                               wisdom

I don’t hear my voice
inside but

an angelic Lily Afshar
playing guitar with her eyes
closed

gently

and singing

note perfect

in the Irish flute voice
of that shaven-headed girl
who tore a photo of
some pope

The dancing of meaning
inside somewhere
changes me like …

nothing I can describe

and I can’t say
what I want except
to be prophetwise
and to gain Your smile

So I read and

sink
             within
                           its
                                    magic

You owned that second
when I could do
nothing

You ruled the world
as the road shrank
in my eyes

You Oh Allah
were my seatbelt
which held

You were the airbag
that loved me
in a flash

You were all and above
when I slid
as nothing

You whispered hush
and steel noise and glass
complied

You oh Allah
took no life there
nor let me

You control the heavens
earth and in-between
and You decide

Can I ever repay
You for a blink
of lasting life?

An email flew from a
Graceless yesterday
Lodging deep
And he groaned
Falling forward
Staring at a portent

He pulled the arrow’s shaft
And a trickle of pain
Ran down his exposed breast
But he pressed
His palm and prayed

Oh Allah what have I done?
Have I not paid
Enough?

You have paid a full price
And justice asks
For nothing now

He read and tears fell
Upon his keyboard
And he thanked
The one who shot for
Aiming so well

A dove flew from his fingers
Returning with
Noah’s sign and
He sighed
Giving thanks
And embraced truth

You never felt snow tighten your skin with a sting
You never searched for the shore from the crest of a wave
You never grinned at the gait of a penguin
You never saw a whale’s grey fluke sink after rising
You never breathed in coffee’s warm rich aroma
You never heard the clearing of a smoker’s throat
You never saw headlights peer through dawn fog
You never smiled at an American accent
You never waited in a queue at the bank
You never cringed at the words of a driving instructor
You never sat and failed a biology test
You never kicked a football across the road
You never changed batteries in a tv remote
You never emptied the lawn-mower catcher
You never rushed to catch a bus and missed it
Yet exulted He chose you
Praise and glory to Him
Picked you from this world
And for it
The last in the line
The path straight to follow
To Him high above all
Alhamdulillah!

Do not get tempted by
Unessential things that
Not only will have
You crying and withering with pain but
Aching with desires

Rise from your grave. It's Easter Sunday
two-thousand sixteen years A.D.
Save the West with hashtag child's play
Post on FaceBook, fancy-free.

Easter pinks and chick-yellow highlights
Nestléd eggs and pastel notes
fail to charm our friends the Ishmaelites
poised to slit our kuffar throats.

Love your rabbit; keep on shopping.
Watch the game and charge your phone.
Allah's bunnies won't stop hopping
Till they make your land their own.