Found written sometime ago and posting now. A constant reminder to me inshaAllah
Purifying my gaze
No, I don’t mean not
looking at that half naked
figure on the billboard by the street
I meant inside.
That when I stand in prayer
I don’t see the carpet
But my Lord’s face.
That I don’t see the mistakes of the worshiper next to me
But only the angels on her either side.
That when I eat
I don’t see the food that makes my mouth water
But the baraka upon me, and my neighbour
who needs me to share it.
That when I teach
I don’t see the rapt attention on my student’s
face, swelling up my pride
But I see the deep truth of what I talk about
And I’m in sujood, inside.
So I purify my gaze
And the hijab on my head is simple
Sometimes it is nothing at all,
A head bowed low
Deeply ashamed of my weakness
Deeply grateful for Thy grace
I walk this earth in modesty
And purify my gaze.
Copyright- January 2011. JoyManifest’s Blog. F R Zahir
This poem was a result of many musings stimulated by dear friend’s facebook status posts as the crisis in Egypt unfolded. While that in itself is something to blog about (and inshaAllah reflections on it to come soon) here is in verse form a few of those thoughts; on power and absolute corruption of it, and on arrogance and how it blinds one’s reason.
Dedicated to those beautiful people who have lost their lives being good citizens… God protect them, forgive them, and grant an eternal peace, and God help us be better and help those who need our help.
*** Like Pharoah
Like Pharoah
who knew the truth
But could not accept
Could not bow.
Shed arrogance for humility
Shed ego to say ‘forgive me’
That his people hated him
Oppressed their lifetime
‘enough’ they cried
‘justice’ they cried
Freedom. Now.
Like Pharoah
Sign upon sign
you ignored, and
puny waves of retaliation
you unleashed
Shock and awe
you thought would muffle a nation.
Like Pharoah
You were wrong.
Truth stands clear from error.
we all know
who read the signs in the times
Your people hate you and you will go.
There is no prophet to lead them
And there is no need.
Prophet upon prophet has come and gone
left history in people’s memory
established lessons in people’s conscience.
Stand up for what you believe in
Stand up. Now.
The world recognizes
Not only your bravery
‘O people of Egypt
Not only your truth,
But the hypocrisy
of those who cloak their tacit approval
in intricate phrasealogy
careful meandering words, that mean nothing.
Speak the truth. Be clear.
Learn a lesson
From those dying on the streets
In honesty.
We can bear no more
‘enough’ they cried
‘justice’ they cried
Freedom. Now.
****
Copyright 2011. JoyManifest’s Blog. All Rights Reserved
I’ve posted a piece written today on the fall colours in the poetry section. The glory of the colour combinations that one witnesses this season are always mind-blowing to this recipient. Very humbling. All praise to the Creator.
After not writing a while, I’m really catching up eh? Here’s my second post in a few hours. This one, a poem written some days ago. It’s called ‘Little things’ and I’ve entered in to the poetry page. Here’s an invitation to read and InshaAllah Khair!
Jazakum Allah Khairan
It’s been a few days since I last wrote. The post Ramadan blues have hit and taken a few days to re-adjust to not having the disciplined ways that brought such closeness to the God-head. I see now the other realm of blessing in having the 6 days of fasting in Shawwal such a strong advice. Indeed, fasting again in Shawwal would remind what Ramadan was all about. And would help cement the (hopefully) newly found better habits of Ramadan.
But Alhamdulillah, today, while baking some goodies to take to work tomorrow (sharing Eid spirit..yay!) I came across this gem of a short talk by Hamza Yusuf. Talking about the place of poetry. It reminded me of the love of literature born in those long gone days of schooling when a teenager. Sitting in those classroom open to the breeze from the Indian ocean and listening to teachers from an old school, spinster teachers who dedicated their life to being ‘our second mothers’…beautiful generous souls whose piety transcended religion, who loved God, and loved humanity and served endlessly. How blessed I was to be taught by them. To have known them. I guess growing up in an island forgotten by the world (yes, even despite desperately needing assistance to end a brutal civil war) had its advantages. I may be old fashioned, but I sure do thank God for my old fashioned education! My English literature teacher, in her seventies at the time, still wearing frocks as they wore in the 40s… who used to walk about the school premises and feed the cats milk in saucers.. My English literature teacher, who taught me to be compassionate to prostitutes through a Beatle’s song, who taught me to see the love of a civilization in the music of a guitar, who taught me to love truth and be courageous in fighting falsehood.. how blessed I was to have her. Stumbling across this talk reminded me of those days, reading Shakespeare, reading the Quran slowly everyday, pondering deeply. How much poetry there is in the Quran. How much truth. Indeed it is all truth. And real poetry speaks universal truths.
The written word is magical. And so God swears by the pen, by language, by reading.. in the first revealed words. ‘Iqra’! Read!
I had many wise things to say, but rather than bore you with pithy cliches, let me just link here the fabulous talk and hope you all get to watch it. Please do.
And I’ll copy one of my favourite poems of all time too 🙂
‘I had no time to hate, because
the grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I,
could finish enmity.
Nor had I time to love, but since
some industry must be
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me’
– Emily Dickinson
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