They keep telling us it started on October 7th But a quick search on google reveals It started later Exactly 53 days later On November 29th 1947 That’s when the UN General Assembly adopted Resolution 181 The Partition Resolution You see, they had tried something like this out A few month earlier In British India’s hell And found that it all went Swimmingly well So nothing haphazard here as Iqbal noted There’s more to it than oranges, honey and dates (We’re back to dates) It’s men who think they’re carving out fates With fire and shrapnel of considerable mass Oblivious to the reckoning awaiting them At the hands of very particular angels When that cosmic inversion comes to pass Then all will see: What is, is not What is not, is
It’s HIS ummah, not yours
“It’s HIS ummah, not yours.”
I’ve heard Shaykh Amin say this more than a few times in recent talks. It holds greater meaning the more we think about it. Some thoughts follow:
Avoid reducing “his ummah” to the actions of its individual members. A scratch on the thumb does not distract from a heart that beats strongly, even working to heal that very scratch.
The ummah is more than the sum of Muslims walking the earth at any given time. It includes every soul that has uttered the kalimah with faith after the prophethood of Muhammad SallAllahu ‘alayhi wa sallam. Most significantly the anbiya, the shuhadaa, the siddiqeen, the saaliheen – those we know of and those we don’t know of. They pray for the ummah in their places of rest.
The ummah has as its members the awliyaa (those here and those who have changed their address). As for those still here, the world turns by their dhikr, and angelic wrath is stayed by their dhikr.
The ummah includes the men and women whose taubah is cause for the throne-bearers to beseech Allah for their forgiveness.
The ummah includes the scholars from the time of the companions of the Rasul all the way to the students struggling in their quest for more knowledge. They are the inheritors of the last and final Messenger.
The oral tradition is the greatest gift the ummah gives its individual members. Along with that comes the idea that while we may ask ourselves what we can do for the ummah – HIS ummah – we may each actually benefit more from asking the question: how can I benefit from HIS ummah?
So let’s ask the question. And let’s seek the answer. A great paradox lies in the nature of our attachment to his ummah, in realizing that the less worthy we think ourselves of being a part of his ummah, the more worthy we become of it.
And Allah knows best.
Steward
That moment you sit down And draw out a plan In the manner and fashion That only you can And you set it in motion With every care While the horrors of poverty Hang in the air Then it all comes together In days, months or years As your furnace is fired by Blood, sweat and tears So you weather the skies Through the blue and the gray Till you taste from the fruit Of your labor one day It is here you must pause And consider my friend With the wealth you have earned From the start to the end All the plans, all the work All the sweat, all the tears All the pain and the sacrifice Over the years Yes ALL that's a transfer Of ownership from Al-Maalik ul-Mulk Testing if you become Worthy steward who spends From the wealth in your care Or a miser with only Destruction to spare
On Cloudless Nights
The first 10 minutes of the concluding session of the Tafsir of Surah Al-Waqiah. Exhausting. My wonderment is captured in this sonnet.
On cloudless nights I look up at the sky
A satin canopy with diamonds spread
Magnificently to my untrained eye
While sailors survey every gem instead
As part of something far more beautiful
For every star aswim upon its way
Is placed to plot a map celestial
To make the night a compass for the day
Upon this wondrous placement comes an oath
A shining star each verse of Word Divine
And like a star each verse holds beauty both
For minds untrained and minds that diamonds mine
Imagine then how preciously they fell
Upon the heart of him who knew them well
Gallant and Victorious
Inspired by Shaykh Amin’s khutbah yesterday and Umar Shakur’s moving verse, O Gaza.
Here far away from burning Palestine
We find it all so inconvenient
To watch our words and walk the blurry line
Between the truth and counterfeit dissent
Just STOP! Return your gaze to Gaza now
That in the face of sure destruction they
Conduct a blessed masterclass in how
Believers hold their own when skies turn gray
The hamd upon their tongues and smiling faces
Their salawaat deodorizing fire
Janazah prayers in the unbombed spaces
The road of taqwa only takes them higher
The prophet dug the trench but stood up tall:
Believers do not give up when they fall
Palestinian Courage, Honestly
Palestinian courage is a gift A gift from God for the world to see A slice from the ummah of the last Nabi To show us how strong OUR faith could be Had he led us to the Red Sea Salaam upon Musa and the moments he Sought refuge from the ignorant patiently So watch them laugh Watch them cry Watch them live Watch them die Watch them very very closely And like any other gift We had better believe it Is best to feel unworthy As we receive it In the end it’s all a testament to their Nabi Our Nabi SallAllahu ‘alayhi wa Sallam
Who Has The Time To Make Up Lies
Who has the time to make up lies Day after day Of having your space invaded Your homes barged into by strangers with guns The best of them leaving you alive after They’re done With their operation, the laughter Mocking your indignities As if each indignity weren’t mockery enough Day after day Rifles shoved in your face That’s a good day The smell of spent cartridges mixes poorly with insults Shoot to cripple! Checkpoints like gates to hell From hell to hell But if you dive, you gain the memory of hitting asphalt As you bleed to death Day after day Of crying at funerals That often become cause for more funerals For some dead may not be mourned, they say Someone said there’s no PTSD beacuse the trauma has no post No post left standing to lean on And then when the infection climaxes in a festering boil It bursts and the pus flows And that pathetic inflammatory response Begets a brand of cowardice only the coward knows So, who has the time to make up lies When they can barely stay alive
Current Events
The truth is rare Just like the air It’s there for you to breathe But lies are dust Begriming trust To thrive upon deceit Know lies will settle Like dirt and metal Their end is near and certain And when they’re gone The truth will dawn Before the final curtain
Different
You can’t compare the state of them who die to live forever With that of them who live to find their deaths Each stark reminder of a dark delusion they’d been clever To think that they could sell their souls for breaths You just can’t
Still
Bide impostor soul Faking it at every turn Trying hard to please That you won’t have to burn Roses is your garden Lush and fragrant newly born Mind the petal falls And praise defending thorn