8.01.2017

- in the name of Allah -

[wrote much of this a few days ago, maybe Saturday, did not foresee the irony of being physically near my dad's actual tombstone so soon. such is the Qadr of Allah, He does as He wills.]

written on the tombstone of my soul:

'in this life was he never whole, 
parted like the seas he'd never seen,
a command to Be, and it split in twain,
away went the half, which was not his own;

so the rest of time which to him remained,
he sought to reunite the rhine- with its -stone,
planting in patience the seeds of pain, slowly grown,
that from their embers, roots might spring forth,
to reach at last the comfort of a long-lost Home;

all he ever felt, all he ever wrote,
were but reminders from his Rabb,
signs and blessings, remembrance to be kept close.

life would bring its tragedies, would pour forth its sorrow,
like a cloud releasing burdens, upon a field grown sallow,
so this ground, his soul, might soak up all the rain,
yet still choose to submit to Him, for He was both the means,
and the Aim.'



 

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