Abdur Rahman
22-11-2006, 09:14 AM
Salaams, one and all...
This is my first time here. My name is Abdur Rahman and amongst other things, I write poetry. I wanted to share some of this with you all. I welcome comments.
Enjoy...
Ya Allah! Grant my hands and my tongue a pure intention to serve You alone.
War Most Sad and Miserable
War is a thing most sad and miserable.
A dirty secret which stains our beautiful world
with the horror of its crimson shame.
Amidst these horrors,
our instinct is to throw care-worn hands
over bruised eyes,
in a desperate attempt to veil our souls
from this pain.
We waste God’s blessings
on guns and bombs and tanks:
these dark dreams
are humanity’s guilty disgrace.
And, war’s darkest secret,
and most serious ill,
is its destruction of the human heart,
like a raving wolf
within the gentle sheep’s enclosure.
Vengeance is a dish best served cold.
No! And again, no!
Revenge is mortal poison,
whose accursed touch
only God’s Loving grace can master.
We must face these horrors
and not run:
‘Praise be to God in every condition’,
was the weapon with which the Prophets,
God’s peace be upon them all,
fought against corruption.
And we lesser folk
must strive with might and main
to do the same,
or lose all claim to humanity.
Atrocities must be faced
and justice given to all.
There is no other way
for people of conscience.
Talking With Authority
We always seek to talk with authority,
when in Truth,
we should let Authority talk with us.
There is a reason for this:
authority is like an anchor,
which all our worried ships
seek amidst the storms of the open sea.
Adam’s children seek stillness
and anchors exist to restrain wanderings.
Thus, we cast our lines outward
hoping that our need
reaches the Ocean Floor.
But, as often as not
our rope-like hearts entangle themselves
in weeds
and in all manner of passing driftwood.
Some even reach reefs of purest coral,
where the Sea’s great heart
has painted a myriad of colourful hues,
tear-like structures of longing and need.
But, reefs themselves must one day be surpassed,
if we are to find that Deep Quiet,
that Floor, ultimate and still,
in which all things must ground themselves.
We return to the surface once more.
Understand, O seeker of pearls,
that not every anchor finds the Sea’s deep bed.
Ma'as salama,
Abdur Rahman
This is my first time here. My name is Abdur Rahman and amongst other things, I write poetry. I wanted to share some of this with you all. I welcome comments.
Enjoy...
Ya Allah! Grant my hands and my tongue a pure intention to serve You alone.
War Most Sad and Miserable
War is a thing most sad and miserable.
A dirty secret which stains our beautiful world
with the horror of its crimson shame.
Amidst these horrors,
our instinct is to throw care-worn hands
over bruised eyes,
in a desperate attempt to veil our souls
from this pain.
We waste God’s blessings
on guns and bombs and tanks:
these dark dreams
are humanity’s guilty disgrace.
And, war’s darkest secret,
and most serious ill,
is its destruction of the human heart,
like a raving wolf
within the gentle sheep’s enclosure.
Vengeance is a dish best served cold.
No! And again, no!
Revenge is mortal poison,
whose accursed touch
only God’s Loving grace can master.
We must face these horrors
and not run:
‘Praise be to God in every condition’,
was the weapon with which the Prophets,
God’s peace be upon them all,
fought against corruption.
And we lesser folk
must strive with might and main
to do the same,
or lose all claim to humanity.
Atrocities must be faced
and justice given to all.
There is no other way
for people of conscience.
Talking With Authority
We always seek to talk with authority,
when in Truth,
we should let Authority talk with us.
There is a reason for this:
authority is like an anchor,
which all our worried ships
seek amidst the storms of the open sea.
Adam’s children seek stillness
and anchors exist to restrain wanderings.
Thus, we cast our lines outward
hoping that our need
reaches the Ocean Floor.
But, as often as not
our rope-like hearts entangle themselves
in weeds
and in all manner of passing driftwood.
Some even reach reefs of purest coral,
where the Sea’s great heart
has painted a myriad of colourful hues,
tear-like structures of longing and need.
But, reefs themselves must one day be surpassed,
if we are to find that Deep Quiet,
that Floor, ultimate and still,
in which all things must ground themselves.
We return to the surface once more.
Understand, O seeker of pearls,
that not every anchor finds the Sea’s deep bed.
Ma'as salama,
Abdur Rahman