Road to Jannah

I found this on my computer. Circa 5+ years ago. I’m not sure if I wrote it or not? If it was me, who on earth was I talking about lol. — J.

They ask me,
what do u see in him
how can i describe him
he makes me smile,
he makes me laugh,
he makes me discuss poetry,
philosophy and film
he has a kindly way
and frustrates me at every turn
he cheers me up when im sad,
makes me mad when im depressed,
checks me when im unislamic
my day is not complete if i haven’t
said ‘hi’ at least once
how can i describe him
it may be friendship
but i know it’s love
perhaps unrequited
perhaps unknowingly returned
anyone else i would paint in greys
him i would paint in colors
blue for his coolness
red for his passion
grey for his serious times
yellow for his sillyness and humor
orange for his absolute innocence
green for his never looking my way
how can i describe him

* I leave u with an image from the best film ever made on unrequited love: North & South by Elizabeth Gaskell.

and no I don’t have an unrequited love! Unless Mr. Thornton plans to convert to Islam and jump out of literature and film into real life

Ok that is all. Thanks for reading. bye bye

There are sad days, and

There are days that pierce your soul.

You remember every moment of that day.

You remember minute details of what you wore,

You remember the exact temperature,

You remember how the grass smelled, and

How the rain fell.

~

You remember in slow motion

That first moment of when you knew.

Imprinted in your mind forever.

When the sky fell in and complete disbelief, and

Confusion reigned.

~

Then you saw the proof, and

You still could not understand.

The questions followed, and

Then the blame.

If only I had done this,

If only I had done that,

If only one minute of time had been shifted,

What might have been.

~

Then the knowing,

Knowing,

Knowing.

And you can’t change anything.

Then grief.

Streams and rivers of grief.

Flowing freely,

Perhaps never ending.

Perhaps one day narrowing to a trickle

Or a sweet lake, so still,

But always there.

In your mind.

~

Sometimes the lake overflows and becomes a flood, and

You push it back even though your heart breaks.

Sometimes you don’t.

You just stand there and let it flow over you, and

Become one with your sadness.

Sometimes you stand there in anger, and

You dare the waves to come.

Angry at God, at destiny, at fortune, at circumstance.

But how can you be angry?

~

Then at last there are no tears left, and

You can only sit on the shore,

Tired, drained, given up.

Accepting.

Remembering.

With sorrow, and

Regret.

Not written for 9/11 but mood seems appropriate to post it today.

Why

Why
Do my prayers not pierce the Heavens?
Why do my tears not reach
Thine Honourable Door?
Why must I gaze
At this endless desert
And wish that I could be again
In Thy Favour?

O Beloved Oasis once
– Gone now.
All that is left,
This sad mirage
Of empty sand.

I feel abandoned and small
Cut off from the Blessed.
O Lord! Overlook my mistakes
Forgive O Most Forgiving!

Why do my prayers not pierce the Heavens?
I am so far from Peace.
I yearn in thirst,
– The caravan so far ahead.

But why do my prayers not pierce the Heavens?
I dream of succour
Of water clear and pure.
I dream of end
Of closeness, of being Near.
I dream of promise,
Soft breezes and no fear.

Yet,
Why do my prayers not pierce the Heavens?
O Most Merciful of Merciful!
The journey is long
And I am tired now.

As I travel the expanse
Towards the distant sea,
Will ye not answer
This lone supplicant
As to why
My prayers do not reach thee?

subhanallah one of the best poems i have ever read.

I Am

I am — yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:–
I am the self-consumer of my woes:–
They rise and vanish in oblivion’s host,
Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes:–
And yet I am, and live – like vapors tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,–
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems;
Even the dearest, that I love the best,
Are strange – nay, rather stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes, where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smiled or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God;
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;
The grass below – above the vaulted sky.

-John Clare

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Dedicated to a Smalltown, Somewhere.

Again.

Driving through this town,

Buying ice cream at this place,

Surreal feelings wash over me.

He lived here,

He studied here,

He worked here.

So many mistakes,

So many years,

How did I end up here?

And he,

So far away,

A stranger to me.

~

Things unsaid,

Misunderstandings spread,

Friendship never held.

Love never found,

Now I’m here,

In this, his town.

Driving around,

Thinking about,

What never happened.

Sad and ephemeral,

With my ‘what might have been’s.

~

Do the streets know

His thoughts of me?

Did the rain wash away

All the marks of our past?

Did the years crumble

All his memories?

Ruins all.

Why do I stall?

Must move on,

Must move on.