Thursday (May 29, 2014)

Black and white,  Nailed, then red; Renains conposed  This natter said. ————————————————— Though given, it never decreases, From many a darkness releases, Miserly the one from whom never spared, For true can it be only when it is shared; Once had, all conjecturing ceases.

The Companion

Last night I attended a lecture by Shaykh Amin in which he delivered a fresh perspective on the Israa wal Mi’raaj, one through the lens of constant companionship.  What made him to say what he said When the news of the journey by nightDid rejoice upon tongues, dance in hearts that were deadTo songs of rejection and spite;But what made him do what he did(This companion we call Al-Siddeeq)Is a knowledge so subtle, entirely hidExcept to the one bent to seek.Destined to be standing by ourMost beloved Rasul and NabiIn a dark little cave in a difficult hourAs hard as an hour could be,To join him to Yathrib, and thereThrough the battles and stretches of peace,To remain his companion beyond all compare,His love never knowing decrease.And so on the night when the LordTook his slave on a mount that was boundPast the waters the reaches of time cannot fordWhere matter and space run aground;It’s true that Jibreel could not walkPast the Lote, a magnificent tree, It is where none of angel or human may flock But for our beloved Nabi; Above, the Nabi with his Lord, While below was his friend rapt in prayer: Did The Lord to his worshipping slave so afford This companion in every affair. The observation regarding Abu Bakr’s (RA) engagement in worship during the course of the prophetic journey is attributed to Shaykh al-Akbar, Muhyiddin ibn ‘Arabi.

Thursday Riddle (May 22, 2014)

Born of metals, rises, settles, Beckons undeparted petals And all when the end is met; In a caliph’s epithet.

Scooping Up Tadpoles on A Sunny Afternoon

Just give me a balmy day with a sunny sky And a stream and a bridge and no reason to be soon, And a friend with a hand that refuses to stay dry As we scoop up tadpoles in the afternoon; I cannot tell what makes me happy more: Is it the feel of tadpoles dancing in my hand, Or just whining and pretending to be sore That we might stay much longer than we planned? The coolest thing about our time together Is the way we didn’t think about the weather When the rain cut short our fun time at the stream; There are always places you and I can dream Of things to do ‘fit were not for the rain, If it be with you, it’s easy on my brain. Alhamdulillah! Until we meet again, Alhamdulillah for friendships that remain.

Thursday Riddle (May 15, 2014)

My mother is heavy, my father is light, And though you can see me, you can never free me From where I exist taking all in my sight.

Sonnet on the Futility of Placing a Familiar Face

You ever see a face you’ve seen before, Then start to wonder when or where that was? You glance askance while lined up at the store, Or crane your neck at traffic lights because You really want to catalog that face, Although you do not need to, not one bit, But you know tagging it with time and place Will make these wasteful moments seem legit. Should you get out of line and turn around Or make your way across a busy street Until that wretched face you seek is found Indifferent to your manner indiscreet? If such a face familiar you find, Attribute it to capers of the mind.

Plant Remembrance

The prophet of Allah looked down at the grave Of one who had once been a difficult slave, He prayed for the soul and then sat on the ground And planted upon it a sapling he found; Then pressing his noblest of hands in the earth, He served his companions a word of good worth: How well does the tasbeeh of one little plant Bring peace to a soul in a way the soul can’t! These words are more precious than they seem to be, They’re words of a lofty, ingenious Nabi, So think, for they tell you much more than you think: The thirst of a seeker survives the first drink. If what does take root and smiles up at the sun And sways in the breeze when a shower is done Can widen the straits of the one in his grave, Each rustling SubhanAllah helping the slave, Then how much more worthy the tasbeeh of one Who speaks and beseeches and weeps in the sun And seeks a forgiveness for himself before He seeks a forgiveness for them at the door! So hear what the Messenger wants us to know, He spoke for companions who knew he spoke so And those who his legacy guard and protect, Bequeathing us treasures that we might reflect.

Thursday Riddle (May 8, 2014)

I rest on a bridge, bending for years, That I may be served whatever appears. ————————————————— I’m given, I’m taken, I’m seldom forsaken, I can be forgotten, cause pain when I’m lost, I’m mostly defended whatever the cost, And often encountered engraved or embossed.


I really enjoyed my time this morning at a Daddy-daughter fishing outing. Thanks, Girl Scouts. It’s a sunny bright morning, climbing hotter into higher degrees, You can feel the light warming up the water in the Saturday breeze, I’m taking in the sunshine while my daughter’s looking down at her line: And no, the fish are not biting but who cares when the weather’s just fine. I say Alhamdulilah for the grassy meadow kissing blue sky, For shady willow, red robin, don’t forget the yellow butterfly, I say Alhamdulillah for hearts that love and that to love incline, And for the fish that aren’t biting, but who cares when the weather’s just fine. I know the fish are not biting but who cares when the weather’s just fine.

Thursday Riddle (May 1, 2014)

Strike me to start me, To end, just depart me, You need at least two To carry me through. —————————————————- It rises and falls like the snarl of a beast Whose breath lingers hot on my ear, A savage determined to render me feast? The thought of it fills me with fear; Then even as sorely I pity my plight, I hear now a whistle, the coos of a child, Then what sounds like rustle of leaves in the night, Now guttural calls of the wild. But when I can bear it no more, I wake my beloved, who barely does rise When all of the din dissipates with a roar And leaves me to wonder if all of this madness Is noises my brain did devise.