Monthly Archives: July 2014

Spring’s Gift by Hamza Yusuf

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The following is a poem written by Shaykh Hamza Yusuf. It is an ode to the love Muslims have for the illuminated Prophet of Islam, Muhammad.

Spring’s Gift

I envy the sand that met his feet
I’m jealous of honey he tasted sweet

Of birds that hovered above his head
Of spiders who spun their sacred web

To save him from his enemies
I envy clouds formed from the seas

That gave him cover from the heat
Of a sun whose light could not compete

With his, whose face did shine so bright
That all was clear in pitch-black night

I envy sightless trees that gazed
Upon his form completely dazed

Not knowing if the sun had rose
Or if the sky was one with those

Who knelt, who prayed, and fasted too
Simply because he told them to

With truth and kindness, charity
From God who gave such clarity

His mercy comes in one He sent
To mold our hearts more heaven bent

I envy all there at his side
Who watched the turning of the tide

As truth prevailed and falsehood fled
And hope restored life to the dead

And men and women found their place
With aspirations for God’s Face

I envy the cup that gave him drink
His thoughts that helped us all to think

To be one thought that passed his mind
Inspiring him to act so kind

For me this world is not one jot
If I could simple be a thought

From him to God throughout the ages
As revelation came in stages

I pity all who think it odd
To hear him say there is one God

Or he was sent by God to men
To hone their spirits’ acumen

It’s pride that blinds us from the sight
That helps good men to see his light

He taught us all to be God’s slaves
And he will be the one who saves

Humanity from sinful pride
Muhammad has God on his side

So on this day be blessed and sing
For he was born to grace our Spring

With lilies, flowers, life’s rebirth
In a dome of green like his on earth.

By Shaykh Hamza Yusuf

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My Rabb

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My Rabb

You came to me
When I was in need.
Raining my heart
with tranquility.
Cleansing my soul
from the dirt
with purity.

Like the foam of the sea
My sins were great.
So I sought the path of mercy
to redeem my fate.

Just as the light had been overshadowed by the dark,
So too had the dark been
overpowered.
In darkness there is always light;
And a plea for peace is all that I recite.
No matter the length
It never proves wrong.

For me He is enough:
My One true love,
My One true Rabb.

Mensur Gjonbalaj
July 30, 2014

Look Into My Eyes

Free Palestine

Free Palestine

 

Look Into My Eyes is a poem written by Gihad Ali, a Palestinian-American, and had been adapted into a song by the Danish hip-hop/r&b trio Outlandish in 2005. The song is written in the point of view of a Palestinian teenager and meant to open the eyes of it’s American viewer to the plight of the Palestinian people. I pray this poem/song opens your eyes to the reality of the world in which we live and connect your heart with those who are suffering. Remember, we are all human at the end of the day and all share the same hopes and aspirations to live in peace.

God bless!

 

 

Look Into My Eyes

 

Look into my eyes
Tell me what ya see
You dont see a damn thing
‘Cuz you cant relate to me

You blinded by our differences
My life makes no sense to you
Im the persecuted one
You the red, white and blue

Each day you wake in tranquility
No fears to cross your eyes
Each day I wake in gratitude
Thankin God, He let me rise

Ya worry bout your education
And the bills you have to pay
I worry bout my vulnerable life
And if Ill survive another day

Ya biggest fear is getting a ticket
As ya cruise your Cadillac
My fear is that the tank thats just left
Will turn around and come back

Yet do you know the truth of where ya money goes?
Do you let the media deceive your mind?
Is this a truth that nobody knows?
Has our world gone all blind

Yet do you know the truth of where ya money goes?
Do you let the media deceive your mind?
Is this a truth that nobody knows?
Some one tell me

Oh, lets not cry tonight
I promise you one day its through
Oh, oh, oh, my brothers
Oh, oh, oh, my sisters

Oh, shine a light for every soul
That aint with us no more
Oh, oh, oh, my brothers
Oh, oh, oh, my sisters

See, Ive known terror for quite some times
57 years, so cruel
Terror breathes the air I breathe
Its the check point on my way to school

Terror is the robbery of my land
And the torture of my mother
The imprisonment of my innocent father
The bullet in my baby brother

The bulldozers and the tanks
The gasses and the guns
The bombs that fall outside my door
All due to your funds

You blame me for defending myself
Against the ways of my enemies
Im terrorized in my own land
And Im the terrorist

Yet do you know the truth of where ya money goes?
Do you let the media deceive your mind?
Is this a truth that nobody knows?
Has our world gone all blind

Yet do you know the truth of where ya money goes?
Do you let the media deceive your mind?
Is this a truth that nobody knows?
Some one tell me

Oh, lets not cry tonight
I promise you one day its through
Oh, oh, oh, my brothers
Oh, oh, oh, my sisters

Oh, shine a light for every soul
That aint with us no more
Oh, oh, oh, my brothers
Oh, oh, oh, my sisters

American, do ya realize
That the taxes that you pay
Feed the forces that traumatize
My every living day

So if I wont be here tomorrow
Its written in my fate
May the future bring a brighter day
The end of our wait

Oh, lets not cry tonight
I promise you one day its through
Oh, oh, oh, my brothers
Oh, oh, oh, my sisters

Oh, shine a light for every soul
That aint with us no more
Oh, oh, oh, my brothers
Oh, oh, oh, my sisters

 
 
by Gihad Ali, Isam Bachiri, Waqas Ali,
and Lenny Martinez
July 19, 2014
 
Peace and Love!
 
 

The Strangers

ghurabaa

 

The following is a melodic poem written by an anonymous man from Egypt a couple of decades back. Ghuraba, or The Strangers, is a term used by the Prophet Muhammad to describe those who follow the path of freedom. For who is more free than those who are strangers in society and bare allegiance or servitude to none but the One who had created them. 

 

THE STRANGERS

Strangers, Strangers, Strangers.

The Strangers bow their heads to none but God.

The Strangers have chosen this to be their creed.

If you ask about us, we care not about the Tyrants!

We are the soldiers of the Lord, and ours is a straight path.

 

Strangers, Strangers, Strangers.

We care not for chains; we shall continue on forever.

So let us struggle, fight, and battle anew!

The Strangers, this is how they are free in an enslaved world.

 

Strangers, Strangers, Strangers.

Do you remember a time when we had been happy?

In the book of the Lord, we recite morning and night.

 

Strangers, Strangers, Strangers.

The Strangers bow their heads to none but God.

The Strangers have chosen this to be their creed.

 

Glad tidings to the Strangers.

 

July 18, 2014

 

Fire – Ibn Arabi

 

heart

 

Fire

O Marvel! a garden amidst the flames.
My heart has become capable of every form:
it is a pasture for gazelles and a convent for Christian monks,
and a temple for idols and the pilgrim’s Ka’bah,
and the tables of the Torah and the book of the Qur’an.
I follow the religion of Love: whatever way Love’s camels take,
that is my religion and my faith.

 

by Ibn Arabi

12th century Spanish Muslim mystic and poet

Try Not to Cry

Palestine

Palestine

 

Try Not to Cry

You, you’re not aware
That we’re aware
Of your despair
Don’t show your tears
To your oppressor
Don’t show your tears

Try not to cry little one
You’re not alone
I’ll stand by you
Try not to cry little one
My heart is your stone
I’ll throw with you

‘Ayn Jalut where David slew Goliath
This very same place that we be at
Passing through the sands of times
This land’s been the victim of countless crimes
From Crusaders and Mongols
to the present aggression
Then the Franks, now even a crueller oppression
If these walls could speak,
imagine what would they say

For me in this path that I walk on
there’s only one way
Bullets may kill, bones may break
Still I throw stones like David before me and I say

You, you’re not aware
That we’re aware
Of your despair
Your nightmares will end
This I promise, I promise

Don’t cry, don’t lose faith
The one who made water come out of the sand
Is the one who quenches the thirst
And you who rise proud from between the stones
Have made oceans from this dust

I throw stones at my eyes
’cause for way too long they’ve been dry
Plus they see what they shouldn’t from oppressed babies to thighs
I throw stones at my tongue
’cause it should really keep its peace
I throw stones at my feet
’cause they stray and lead to defeat
A couple of big ones at my heart
’cause the thing is freezing cold
But my nafs is still alive
and kicking unstoppable and on a roll
I throw bricks at the devil so I’ll be sure to hit him
But first at the man in the mirror
so I can chase out the venom

Hmm, a little boy shot in the head
Just another kid sent out to get some bread
Not the first murder nor the last
Again and again a repetition of the past
Since the very first day same story
Young ones, old ones, some glory
How can it be, has the whole world turned blind?
Or is it just ’cause it’s only affecting my kind?!
If these walls could speak,
imagine what would they say
For me in this path that I walk on
there’s only one way
Bullets may kill, bones may break
Still I throw stones like David before me and I say

 

July 16, 2014

Lest We Forget …

Nuclear

Nuclear

 

Lest We Forget …

One day it will all crumble and we’ll be left to rot

under the rubble after the stone walls tumble down upon us.

Years of luxury will be replaced with years of agony

and surely, all we hold dear shall be lost.

Our homes, our cars, our fences, our accessories, our money,

and ultimately, our beloved will all wither away into the pages

of a history we are imminently doomed to repeat –

lest we forget.

But it is too late; we’ve already forgotten.

The early morning coffee runs,

the cafe brunches, the jog in the park, the memorable midnight strolls down the avenue, and all

the leisure we take for granted

will be gone, along with us.

The survivors can only wait to die,

and mayhap wish it upon themselves in place of the terror that grates whatever shred of

humanity left in them.

It be then and only then that they will real what they have sown;

but it will be too late.

Decades of neglect; generations of ignorant youth eagerly chasing empty dreams of success and bliss

whilst failing to open their eyes to the horror of their fellow man only a couple of oceans away

shall see with their own eyes and at the cost of their blood the evil wrought by the neglect.

Just as children are murdered in cold blood at the hands of the oppressors for no reason other

than being a burden to their devilish agenda, and as an act of subjugation, so too shall their

children, innocent, and in retrospect, more fortunate, die and face the darkness brought upon us.

They will be forced from their homes, have their wealth and assets frozen, and left good for dead.

The hypocrisy will come to an end and every man, woman, and child will finally lay to rest the age old question: are we free?

No. We are not free.

Not in this world nor in this life.

We may have once been free,

But we sold our freedom for comfort and safety.

It was a bad deal,

And now the time has come to pay the piper.

There will be no safety nor any comfort.

Only death could free us from oppression

and only death can deliver us from evil.

But for those who believe in the spirit of good and what it means to be a true man and woman,

death will not come easy.

It is to be vanguarded by destruction and devastation.

Evil will come to vanquish all that is good until there is not a seed of humanity left on this good earth.

The earth is good and deep inside his heart, though he thinks it not to be true, man is good.

And as certain as death is so too is it certain that a freeman dies standing.

Only slaves kneel; no man is worthy of being bowed to.

All men are equal.

We are born into this world by way of our mother’s womb and we all die;

Thereafter, being covered by the dirt of our graves where we are to laid to rot and become the fare of the underground.

We are but dust, ready to dry up and burn.

Life is but a short-lived enjoyment –

One we enjoy so much that we develop enough conceit to think for a moment who has a right to it.

All the years of ignorance and arrogance, wrongdoing and prejudice, and complacency and neglect will come falling down on us.

Our world will burn into oblivion, setting fire to the rain and leaving us with no other option but to burn.

So as we go about our lives, meandering through the chaos of the world we helped create,

Take a moment to stop and heed the whispers of the wind:

Yesterday we were born.

Tomorrow we shall die.

But today, we will live.

Let us not be amongst the lost who neglect the lessons of yesterday and do not seize the day.

For lest we forget,
tomorrow shall be the day of our reckoning.

 

by Mensur Gjonbalaj

July 13, 2014