Between my shadow and my soul

Surviving the shadow within the shadow

It is only when you stare into the eyes of a monster
Can you see its reflection in yourself.

You twist sideways and turn yourself upside down,
Trying to transform this image into one of Beauty
Of something you could love forever and never let go
To alter the outside because you won’t accept; it is part of you.

Murder. It is the only answer. Murder what you hate
And it will die inside of you. If  you let it live out there,
It will haunt your every step, echo your every move
Until you slowly lose contact with a reality too terrifying
To see. 

Kill it... before it kills you.

On Loving Ramadan

Children of Adam,  Rejoice, as the Moon calls,
It says, Become aware of the gentleness of my light.
Make your nights mindful and aware
Empty your days of their harsh chasing.

Restrain your daily desires, feel the pangs of withdrawal
Followed by the liberation of victory
Bathe in my soft light and stand in praise of your Sustainer
Let go of delusions of sustenance, only through restraint
Will you see through this mirage of fulfilment

You’ll return in anticipation, to your soul’s rhythm
Love and praise, praise and love, without covetousness or flattery
You would have burnt a path to your core, your spine of existence
This is the Joy you feel when you hear the Moon’s call

Children of Adam, make merry while the ethereal contentment lasts,
Tomorrow may be Eid, when the Sun’s dominance returns,
With its blazing rays of production and consumption
That overwhelm your Soul’s flickering moonbeams.
So now, dance with the Moon and
Sing the Message in evening vigils , and rejoice.

In between the signs

If this soul yearns, 
For a delicious reunion of purpose and passion
It is when, I kiss my mother's feet
And yet my soul yearns for God
Or I clasp my father's hand, 
My soul still yearns for God
Fall asleep in my husband's arms,
Caress my newborn's forehead,
Drive the newest model of my German car,
Stare in awe at the Niagara Falls, 
Summit the tremendous Uhuru;

Even if, my words are published in the world-famous publications.
My face on every prestigious magazine, and my laugh on every television screen
All legitimate Halaal desires, if and only if 
My soul still yearns and is impressed only by reunion with God, then
I have realised what the purpose of being human is 
And will only strive for the rare type of wealth, tranquility (Sakeenah)
Because true love can only exist between a soul and God


Is like a spiderweb,
Of course because the delicate 
Patterned spindles lull 
Me into a false sense of security
All the while knowing any second
Forces beyond my control
Can rip it all, leaving 
Me homeless, destitute, in despair

What makes us trust then?
To accept, my exit from the womb 
Began such, and all life shall end such
So should I not anticipate these 
Rabbitholes and like Alice,
Skip and hop to enjoy the adventure?

So pretty

How beautiful are flowers 
Pressed between two sheets of glass 
Preserved in eternity in an odourless, 
Colour-draining existence 
Like when she thought she was 
Moving, touching, building
The background music was grandiosely baroque 
And the images she saw were real and vivid,
Years she spent in this ideal, fascinated, saturated
Until one day she tried to move and realised 
She would have to just sit and wait.
Yes, no, yes, there was no mobility here, no 
Fluid, grainy, joint-creaking, none of that 
So she screamed and screamed in a tone 
That had no sound, kicking with phantom limbs 
Until she died, as perfectly still, as the moment of her birth


Eve's leaves, Adam's eyes, this is more than squabblings over forbidden fruit
For thirteen years we've touched with my every movement,
So much so, that to seperate would be like to wake up one day
And discover you've lost all visible traces to your parental ethnicity;
Can you imagine the loss, the confusion, the instinct to hide away?
Like any connection, it has its implicit understandings, to uphold this
I need to accept like any ethnic minority, majority, Americanphobiority
How others and Others associate a myriad of identities,
Bigot, frigid, judging, scared, ignorant, conformist, whateverist
That tell me they've found something to latch on, to comfort them
Just like the be-longing we have, my Hijab and I

In my heart

...I imagine you bursting with the love, contentment and Sakeenah of tulips blooming in a Turkish April

One day I cut a piece of time, and hid it in my shoe

Bury the memories carefully,
One day you may need to find them

Barren contentment

The imperfection is what’s most fascinating

The absolute, complete, finity

How one day, we’ll all let go

The world won’t spin

Your heart won’t beat

Heaven being simply an end of neediness

Of wanton wants

Pure white blossoms into whiteness

A non-existent background of invisible blackness

Can you see what I see?

Hello, old friend

When you've died a thousand deaths,
A certain resurrection emerges from this lifeless soul,
An uncertain friendship develops with death Herself.
You realise the pockmarks that had once been signs of dire infection
Are now worthy wrinkles of wise wanderings
That inspire you to invite Her on every adventure...

My final say on Love

I need to rescue this pitiful word from
Being a downtrodden rotten ragged rat of
A word , to evolving to the fresh warm taste
Of honey sprinkled on a green apple, sour sweetness
In a complete and fulfilled sort of pleasure

And nowhere do we know love better than
When it is ripped by loss, by the slow regurgitation of every
Morsel of apple in a pool of hydrochloric acid and rejection,
Every convulsion a confirmation, every gob of spit a reclamation
And that wonderful aching emptiness that is left, can anticipate
Being filled by the same sour sweetness, in some parallel future


A doll within a doll within a doll within a doll,

Crackless exterior, walls within walls within an emptiness

What lies deep within, no man knows.

Secrets passed from matron to virgin, generation to generation?

A deep red rosy heart full of repressed love and affection?

An identity reaching from grandfather's grandfather to an ancient heritage?

No. Just a tear within a tear within a tear.

And beware, the cracks are beginning to show...