I’m all a lie, I tell myself, When I am all alone, The second third’s upon me And my heart is still a stone; The truths I told were only To make myself seem good Surrounded by them, lonely Inside my hellish wood; My mouth is parched, my head is A cloud of hunger and A host of deprivations Depriving me as planned; Then somewhere in the corner Of my transgressing mind I find that patient warner Won’t let me stay behind; Now him, I know I love, And him, I long to see That him I’ll find beside me where The kauthar waters free A slave from his own fancy Through sips of truth and light, I long to touch my quencher, I long to find that night; Forgive this hapless seeker, O Lord, forgive your slave, So weak, he can’t be weaker Than when he’s in his grave. Allah, forgive your slave.
If all the love of every mother From Hawwa to the one Who walks the sands of motherhood Before this verse is done Were all combined into one love, A drop is all there’d be Upon a wave that rolls across A love that’s like the sea. So send, my Lord, your rahmah on Our sinful hearts afire And let your mercy enter in Extinguishing desire, That when the midnight darkness falls Upon a silent town You find a heart that weeps and calls For mercy to come down.
My Constant Guest returns to me again He bears no signs of weariness or sleep But brings me my provisions in a rain Of mercy, every drop for me to keep. Welcome, Ramadan.
I participated last year – lots of fun. You’d be surprised how stiff the competition can get. Highly recommend this for anyone raring to go head-to-head with other poets. I’ll be glad to miss it for Ramadan this year. Otherwise you will have found me there ;-).