Hear me out my dear
It’s a simple plan
If we love this man
Insha Allah then
We will meet again
We will meet again
If we love this man
We will meet again
You can shed a tear
And pronounce a prayer
No goodbye for you
No forever gone
All that’s keeping us
From each other then
Is the roar of time
And the noise of men
We will meet again
We will meet again
If we love this man
We will meet again
Wedding Party
For little Noor the sound of laughter
Died away a moment after
Fireball devoured the room
And turned it to a fiery tomb
With Noor beneath a smoldering rafter.
One moment, swishing silver taffeta,
Mom and dad embraced and chaffed her
Sister, wrapped in heaven’s bloom
For little Noor.
Then, death! Lord, how the breathing have to
Pick themselves up from disaster
Every trial sacred womb
That bears them out to weather doom
There is no golden globe or bafta
For little Noor
Stressing?
Make a list of all your battles
Brew some chai, take the trouble
Picking ones you can lose
Where the loss is tolerable
It may seem a bit defeatist
But a wise concession scatters
All your seeds of careful planning
Left to harvest when it matters
Cruise Control
How much longer do you have on this road
Will you make it to the end
Or is the end how far you make it
How much longer do you have on this road
Your exit’s coming up
You’ll know it when you take it
So Grateful
I often say I’m grateful but I think
The act of saying so acts like a charm
See all I want to say is that I’m glad
But “gratitude” can ward away the harm
If I were truly grateful for a thing
I’d fall upon my face and offer thanks
I wouldn’t find the time or rhyme to bring
Myself to publicize the sentiment
But on and on I go about how kind
The Lord has been to me in every way
While I am, simply said, out of my mind
With happiness, but don’t know how to say
I’m just a self-absorbed and petty lad
Who likes to say he’s grateful when he’s glad
Doing Time
Let this world be your prison
And time be your friend
Who reminds you your time
Is nearing the end
If you taste from it morsels
Of Paradise, bend
To the dungeons of shukr
Khalid, once again
Be Tree
Stand tall
Up your branches
High high into the sky
And bear your fruit upon each, bow
Humbly
Humbly
Humbly
Imān: A Cinquain
Imān
Is a nūr that
You carry everywhere
That someday it may find you light
To bear
Act
Knowledge: it will get you
All the way to the gate
But you will only go through
If tawfīq is in your fate
You'll never know your fate though
Until it is too late
What you do is in your hands, my friend
And what you don't is in your hands as well
Thinking
Think before you speak
Khalid think before you think
So your thinking doesn’t reek
Of those thoughts that tend to stink