May 31, 2016

I want to sit on a sidewalk
Forget who I am
Where I am
Or who I belong to

Forget myself
And why I am
Who I am

My dreams
My goals
My half- baked ideas
Empty promises
Unfulfilled wishes

Unfinished stories
And unedited poems


May 2, 2016

It just makes you want to sit down and be quiet
There’s a freeing feeling that comes with it
It heals you without knowing your illness
It nurtures you without use of words
It becomes a part of you as though it was never separated
Maybe it is you
Completely free of expectations
Just living
Without argument
Bearing with grace every hardship
In complete beauty
And submission
To God


First published on my old blog here

Ode to ‘students of knowledge

November 10, 2015

12191797_10153355975618577_4962266200334282277_nNote: The term ‘student of knowledge’ in the Islamic tradition means someone who studies Islamic knowledge specifically in a traditional manner of studying from teachers who have a senate back to the prophet, peace to him, so independent study -though valuable, wouldn’t count and is not including in this ode. I wrote this “off the cuff”, the words just came to me though the sentiment has been with me for a long time. Students of knowledge are extremely valuable to our ummah (Muslim community), the advent of google can’t ever replace that and it’s important for us to value and encourage anyone on the path of knowledge but especially those who take great stride -through travel, finance, time, and personal comfort, to preserve our tradition.



Oh how I praise the student of knowledge
Weak knees and cramped legs
Sitting at his teachers’ feet
Writing every word possible to preserve those gems
Kissing the hands of those who gave him
A light by which to see
Air by which to breathe

Oh how I praise the student of knowledge
His pace is fast
His stomach is light
His hours at night
Are too few to count

He’ll catch the red eye
And spend his last bits of money
For bits of knowledge
He knows that google and books -not even recordings
Can replace those living with our tradition in their souls

Oh how I praise the student of knowledge
So far away from home
So overwhelmed
And under-appreciated
All the fools who will argue with you
Overlooking the pain that you went through
To preserve a light that is passed from heart to heart

Oh how I praise the student of knowledge
Huddled up in cramped homes
Attempting to speak with the locals
Eating strange food
And hiding the tears of home sickness

They are the unsung heroes of our ummah
They are deserving of our praise

I adore you

October 18, 2015

For reasons unknown I wrote two versions of this poem, one on June 27th, 2014 and the other on March 7th, 2015. I’m not sure which one I like better, if it seemed appropriate I’d combine them, but I couldn’t reach any certainty on doing so and so it remains two. I often write and forget about it. It sits in my phone or in a notebook until the day I find myself singing it -many of my poems are in reality songs but since they just sit in a notebook or behind a screen it seems more appropriate to term them poems. I started singing to this to myself today and thought to share the latter version with you dear reader, please enjoy:

I Adore You
Adore you
You keep me where I’m safe
At home
When I’m afraid
Adore you

You who came out of the blue
And rescued me from my blues


A crash would be perfect

October 5, 2015

A crash would be perfect
Head to head
And it all ends
It all stops
Black out begins
And never ends

I’m not afraid of death
I’m more afraid to live
I’m most afraid to see him
Because I haven’t loved enough
Haven’t done enough
Didn’t live in fear
Didn’t really care

By everything
Nothing with me
It’s only you I see
But that’s not enough to be
To live
With value added
With bottom lines considered
Within the red line
With in time

And nothing more is giving

A crash would be perfect
Because I don’t want to risk
One step
A misstep
And live forever without him
So let me die before it’s too late
But the beloved said don’t wish for this state
So I won’t wish for death
I’ll just hope to live
With nothing consuming me
But him

As long as life is worth living
And each sin is drenched in repentance

Time is of the essence

October 3, 2015

They say that time
Is slightly different for me and you
That it speed up the higher up you are
And slows down the farther down you get
But I forget
And just let
It all slip away

Who am I to be such a time waster?
Wasting it on a laugh or two
Forgetting about You
Lying in bed with sheets over my head
And a screen glued
To my eyes

Time is nothing
Neither fast or slow
If all you do is let it pass you by


May 16, 2015

tumblr_nm7jqg5ZrT1qkv5xlo1_500Sometimes it feels like the whole world is closing in on me
I’m suffocating
Begging for air to breathe
I feel like Your punishing me
And theirs no doubt as to what I deserve
I feel low without worth
And I’ve given birth to my sadness
Being in love
Driven in to madness
One eye sees clearly and the other is crippled
Half a mind loves your dearly
The other is filled with regret
Love, something close to madness
When will the sweetness come
and the rain stop?

Written 1-21/2013

If we’ll make it back home

February 28, 2015

flowers in tinI wonder if we’ll make it back home
I just wonder if we we’ll make it back home

If there’s a place we can meet
If a place we can speak
Do you remember those things
Worth remembering?
Do you recall those words
Still trembling
You couldn’t say
What you meant
You couldn’t quite be
You wanted

Don’t chase those same all stories
I know who you were
I know all about the glory
Stop crying for dreams
That don’t come true
God’s got plan for me
And he’s got a plan you

Forget the hurt that you’re feeling
I’m not saying its not true
Be true
Be true for you

I just want you to know
Your dreams won’t come true
God’s got a bigger plan
For me and for you
For me and for you

But you can cry if you need to
But don’t say I didn’t warn you
About the downfall
And sadness
Just trust me there’s a rainbow after the rain
You’ll be glad the rain came

A Poem for You

February 2, 2015

islam photo
I’m a bit disappointed in myself for not being able to work on the essay I had in mind for our beloved, peace upon him. Nevertheless here is a poem for An Nabi, peace to him.

Was it just a dream?
For me it remains unseen
Were you just a ghost
Wrapped in our hopes
Just to see you smile
Would be a reason to rejoice
I’ve cried a thousand tears
To listen to your story
I’ve let go of a thousand fears
Because you overcame with glory

Oh smile at me
RasoolAllah (peace and blessings upon him)
Oh smile at me
HabibAllah (peace and blessing upon him)
Oh quench our thirst
At your pool

Our love for God through loving you

A bloodless conqueror
A king and yet he’s still a slave
I long to stand near you
Or even to sit by your grave
God we end our heads, just like he taught us to

Muhammad ar-rasoolullah

|The Description|

January 19, 2015

This poem is an attempt to physically describe one of the greatest saints of our time. I wrote this poem for myself, others and maybe one day my own children in order to hold on to the image of a man that means so much to me and many others. What matters most is of course not his physic but his message, which will be carried on way past his existence, but his image also matters. Remembering the way people appear before us helps us to hold them in our mind’s eye and brings to life the life they lived and the gift their presence gave to humanity.

May God accept this small effort.


The Description
Small eyes
And a modest disposition
From his status,
We all listened
His face was small
Almost shrunken in

His eyes were always focused
On something else
His turban
Wrapped so perfectly
It’s a wonder he got it so neat,
time and time again

His clothes were a cream-white
Maybe even golden
His robe didn’t drag on the floor
Though I never saw his shoes

He stood at maybe 5’9” or 5’10”
Everywhere he went
He went swiftly
It was hard to catch him
Sometimes he walked so swiftly,
We couldn’t stand for him

He always sat on the floor,
Crossed legged
Except for that time he hurt his knee
I almost cried knowing he wouldn’t sit in a chair,
Unless he really had to
His jokes were always forthcoming
Sometimes you might miss them
They were never laugh out loud slap your legs jokes
They were funny

When you entered his room
to sit with him
He stood for you
And when you left he gave
you a small gift

He was like the grandfather
I never knew

His skin was a reddish cream
He couldn’t hide the fact that
he was white
Not as if he tried
Sitting before him I could
never see the typical barrier
Of white and black
Or man and woman
He was just a saint who I’d been looking for but was told didn’t exist

Yet there he was
There he is

His hand movements where always strong
And purposeful
Strokes in the air for emphasis

He didn’t have any kids
But he is like a father to us all
Once I saw him walk up a steep hill

That’s what he was trying to
teach us

Move on
Move ahead

I don’t mean to speak
As if he’s dead
The past allows me to remove
Myself from the inevitable fact
That one-day
Sheikh Nuh will be gone

And what then?
And what then?


Other Recent Poems: Take Care | For Our Mother | Without Innocence

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