Poetry

My lips are dry
My voice is low
My speech
Incoherent and slow
I’m down and out
But I know You know
And a sip of that
Is enough for me

How lush is Your verdant Qudrah
Its valleys are green with:
    When khalid grows weary of sinning
    Though You don’t tire to forgive

This world is wont
To fill my eye
With every dark
And poison dye

So cleanse my lens
Ya Basīr, that I may see
Through the eye
Of my heart

Like this waxing gibbous
Laden with your rahmah
Bring to life and make whole
My dying and misshapen soul

There is no gem on earth
No gem that shines like mirth
And mirth shines like the sun
Don’t let it burn my mind
Nor let it turn me blind
That in pursuit of happiness
I lose my way back home

Is it that we find mercy
When we show it to another
Or is that sweet discovery
The mercy altogether

I see the sky when it’s blue
And I see it when it’s gray
But the seeing can’t be true
If in the hues of day
I see no gift from You

Am I to spend my dwindling years
Wondering, Ya Rahman
At your sweet generosities
That span from dawn to dawn
Not knowing if I’m blundering
In my attempts at wondering

Teach me then how to wonder
That my leisure may not be in vain