r h y m e s
Latest statistics put the world Muslim population at around 1.5 billion. Can you imagine that? 1.5 billion Muslims walking the planet, 1.5 billion smaller worlds in this one. 1.5 billion different stories, every one an epic, full of tragedy and triumph, good and evil, despair and hope. How many different perspectives are out there, variations in color and language and philosophy, and we're all bonded by this deen, we are all Ahlul Qiblah. We all turn to Makkah in submission to Allah, but we all turn to that city from a different direction. I think this is why I have such a deep appreciation for poetry. It allows you to see what this struggle is like from someone else's mind. Here are some that I like :)
Still
Haroon Sellars
Still I fail to medicate myself
Still I continue to devastate myself
By doing what I know to be a sin
Have I been given a guarantee that in the end
I will win?
Just because I’m still alive and have an easy living
Doesn’t mean that I’ve been forgiven.
Yes I’m still alive, but how can I expect to survive
Life in the displeasure of Allah!?
I say I “love Allah”, but does Allah love me?
Let’s see, just how real is this so-called
“Spirituality” that you profess to possess
But when you’re alone you digress and don’t confess!
Thought that you could fool ‘em with that beard
And that hijab
Not realizing that at your own heart you have
Taken the deepest stab.
Thought that you could fool them with that thaub
And veil over your face!
How dumb you must have looked in front of the One
Who’s knowledge, hearing and sight penetrate every place!
Why do you feel so secure that Allah is going to forgive you
Everytime?
Do you really feel secure as you drive home from
The scene of your crime?
How do you know the wrath and punishment of Allah
Isn’t waiting for you around the corner?
Don’t you know that the Angel of Death strikes without
A warner?!
How long do I think I have to make things right?
By Allah! If I knew the reality of my sins,
I couldn’t sleep at night!
Afraid of closing my eyes from fear
Of dying in my sleep!
Only to wake up in a grave so dark, lonely and deep!
-Who’s your Lord? my own desires...
-Who’s your Prophet? my own desires...
-What’s your religion? following my own desires...
-Well welcome to the Fire! -Welcome to the fire!!
What an awful place to retire!
Muqtedar Khan
Without Reason
Somewhere, in the vast expanse of our mind
Is the clue to the secret of the never ending life
Somewhere in the depths of our soul, We will find
Some empathy with death and a meaning in life.
Somewhere in this vast desert that is life
Beyond the agony of recurring mirages
Is the oasis of hope and the spring of life
Quiet and serene, uninhabited for ages
On the plains and on the mountains in the valleys and the deserts
The silence of wisdom has ruled forever
Banished from the homes, the cities, and the nations
Overcome by the screams of greed and power.
The truth that was ours, is now alien to us
Upset with our vision and our refusal to reason
It lives in exile, within us and without
Watching in fear as we live without reason.
Ahad
author unknown
Why shed these tears of sorrow?
Why shed these tears of grief?
Ya nafsy how soon you forget,
After trials come sweet relief
Why turn you from Ar-Rahman?
Why yearn for a listening friend?
Ya nafsy, do you not remember,
On ALLAH, you must depend?
Read you not those stories,
of the trials in days gone by,
Of the Sahabi beloved by Allah,
who for Allah's cause did strive?
Why loosen your hold upon him?
Why fling away, His outstretched Hand?
Ya nafsy, do you not remember,
Bilal's sabr on the blazing sand?
"Ahad! Ahad!" He cried,
While his flesh did drip and burn.
"Ahad! Ahad!" He cried,
To Allah alone he turned.
Forget you the firmness of Hamza,
As the gleaming swords did fall?
With Sabr he turned to Allah,
as the qureish did slice and maul.
Why drown in salty tear drops?
How can you dare compare your pain?
To that of Yasir and Summayah,
As the lay tortured on the scorching plain?
Forget you the charring of Khabbab,
As on burning coals he lay?
Ya nafsy how meager your suffering,
Wherefore do you lose your way?
Why befriend you not Al-Wali?
Why not in Salat to Him complain?
Like Job who only to Allah,
Turned in all his grief and pain?
Forget you that trials in this life,
cleanse your heart and make it clean?
Ya nafsy, why all this sadness?
do you not wish your heart to gleam?
Be patient in all your hardships,
Allah hears your cries of woe.
So trust Him and His hikma,
for He knows best and you don't know.
So tighten your hold upon him,
Lest He withdraw His outstretched Hand!
And remember the example of Bilal,
as he lay anchored on the blazing sand.
"Ahad! Ahad!" he cried,
While his flesh did drip and burn.
"Ahad! Ahad!" he cried,
To Allah alone he turned.
The Promise
author unknown
There's a promise in our sorrow
and a blessing when we sigh.
There's a light beyond the shadows
and a cleansing when we cry
So when we are discouraged,
and face tremendous grief;
it is during those times of trouble,
that the heavens send relief.
With our heart in tune with Allah
our source of joy and peace,
be mindful of His promise,
that all suffering He would cease
He hears our cries of sadness
He's felt our every pain,
He's listens to our sighness
All glory to His name
Just yaqeen with HIS promise
As He whispers to be still,
for there is joy and comfort
Beyond the unexpected veil
So if the sky should darken
and if the earth should quake
remember life has struggles
On the journey that we take
The aftermath of sorrow
is beauty and pure light,
if we can fight the battle
and pray with soul and might.
He sent us rainbow colors
to follow cleansing rain,
He showed us there are miracles
that come with all the pain.
Seek forbearance in the hardships,
or when we fear or roam.
Cast your burdens on the Savior,
and He'll come and take us home.
For He is our great Redeemer
our only true best friend,
He promised he would never leave
He'll guide us to the end
Masterpiece
shazia ahmad
If I could paint a portrait
of this life in which I've led
and somehow sketch a story
of the visions in my head
I'd start out with a canvas
stretched tightly in a frame
and in the bottom corner
I'd leave room to sign my name
I'd buy myself some pretty paints
made of the finest dyes
carefully choose my brushes
and other art supplies
I wouldn't need a model
to pose and play a part
I'd paint for you a picture
of what lies within my heart
I'd stain the backdrop all in black
to hide a distant past
cover up the broken dreams
that were not meant to last
and then I'd add some shades of white
then splash it all in gold
I'd marvel at this painting
this masterpiece foretold
but in this soulful picture
you would see some shades of gray
some imperfect hint of shadow
which would never go away
they lie within the darkness
of the corners in my mind
stashed away in dark recesses
that times of sin have left behind
if I could paint a portrait
of this life in which I've led
and somehow sketch a story
of the visions in my head
Islam would be a rushing river
where I wash away my fears
an ever constant flowing
which cleanse me from my tears
I'd outline a horizon
where the mountains touch the sky
beyond the range of yesterdays
where the past's been left to die
I'd paint the past with sad regret
those times of wild youth
drowned in sin and lost in black
now emerging to the truth
I'd paint for you the setting sun
of wasted years left behind
now fading from my senseless life
to clear a shrouded mind
those times of constant searching
for a single ray of light
that I could hold before me
to guide me through the night
and then I'd place the flowers
scattered in a deep green field
each a different color
their meaning not concealed
each bloom would stand for triumphs
all the struggles in my thought
sprung up from all the fissures
from the battles which I fought
there's a highlight in this portrait
the inspiring shades of white
the texture and perspective
that reflect the rays of light
Islam is what brings color
in this picture I display
if it were not present here
it would all just fade to gray
yeah if I could paint a portrait
of this life in which I've led
and somehow sketch a story
of the visions in my head
beneath the color and the hue
the times of hope and times of strife
beneath it all, if you look close
Islam is what brings beauty to my life.
This life is a bridge
*Alhumdulillah!*
Every son of Adam
makes typos,
and the best of those
are the ones who are quickest
with the "backspace" button.
Remove your glasses and your wristwatch
when you enter prayer.
Your Sajdah is above time, beyond space:
"Artists construct a body of work."
Find Creation in the bridge of your nose,
lay the bridge on the ground as commanded.
Cross the bridge at the end of Salah,
looking both ways before crossing -
first right, then left -
and DON'T cross the bridge
on Red.
The Red is The Fire.
Cross on Green - that is The Garden (your home)
And if you look and find the light is Amber,
Run!!
(This life is a bridge; make on it no home)
*Alhumdulillah!*
Give Me Your Help shazia ahmad Give me your help Allah. . . to live this one
day One knot to unravel, one problem to weigh One path to discover, and choose the right turn One worry to conquer, one lesson to learn One moment of gladness to overcome pain One glimpse of the sunlight, one touch of the
rain No one can see what is coming tomorrow Nor tell if this hour will bring laughter or
sorrow So I will turn to your love, and with perfect
trust say: 'Give me your help, Allah . . . to live this
one day' When? Haroon Sellars When will you stop killing yourself with sin!? Soon you will wear a twisted grin Distorted and mutilated from being burnt in a Fire Extreme! With multiple layers and names like Jaheem! A beating heart that’s dead! Pumping satanic blood from your toes to your head Parasitic sins and lusts have found a generous host in you! Tainting and consuming everything that you do Losing the battle by losing your Lord Regretting all the time that passed with this problem ignored Left all alone with you, yourself and death approaching! Couldn’t you find a single righteous one to give you some coaching? To take you along by the hand and by the soul And help you on the path to achieving the True Goal Of purification, refinement, closeness and beauty! Of victorious submission and fulfillment of your duty, To worship Allah alone without the slightest compromise Longing for the Great Vision the true satiation of the eyes!!! How will you be when your soul is taken from it’s bodily shell? Will you be left with a smile from Paradise or an expression from Hell!? Unmindful of Allah, how did you think you could survive? When He has described the ones who remember Him
as truly being ALIVE
Mohja Kahf
When you raise a date to your mouth at maghreb,
does it come up blood?
does it come up blood from fajr from Khalil?
does it come up blood from the throats of the murdered in Khalil?
Mine does
When you raise your hands to fold across your chest
for maghreb in the mosque,
do they come up bloody from fajr prayer in a mosque?
do they come up bloody from the chests of young men in Palestine?
Mine do
does it come up a pulpy stump of tangled tissue?
does it come up redslime from the arms of those in Sarajevo?
Mine does
just outside your window where you can keep an eye on them
do their little bodies come up blood?
from the little bodies of Haris and Aliya?
Mine do
Mine do for I am Bosnian
Mine do for I am Muslim
Mine do for I am your Ummah
How long will it be before my Ummah finds a way to stop the blood
from bubbling up between lips trying to speak the Fatiha?
or your old clothes
I am your Ummah and I don't just want thirty seconds
of your thought after your dinner and your coffee
I am your Ummah and I don't Just want ninety minutes of your weekend
I am your Ummah and I want your whole mind
I am your Ummah and I want your entire workday
and your exhausting night
I am your Ummah and I want your degree and travel
and all your energies
I am your Ummah and I want you to give your children to me
I am your Ummah and I want your hunger and your muscle tissue
and your bone and blood
Raise me to Justice again
Raise me to truth and to compassion
Find a way to stop the blood from spurting up between the lips
of those shot at fajr prayer in the mosque,
who broke their fast on blood
still trying to form the words Subhana Rabiyal Athim
Forgotten Men al basha There was a time, long ago When honor, justice and chivalry Roamed the earth, in the hearts of men Bidding you peace and prosperity Aiding you in dire times When brotherhood was Sworn by your heart Not by your VISA Beloved our Prophet was Perilous tasks undertaken From the persecution in Makkah To the Muslims of Madina Mercy to mankind he was Forget me nots Nay what a shame Tis we, are who to blame They come and go High and low These forgotten men are everywhere In times of ours they are rare
Ali abu Talib son of AbdunNur
Contemplating The Owner And Creator Of This Star Lit Night,
Her submitted, totally committed soul shudders with a kind of fright
That’s clothed in pious, God-conscious wisdom.
Then comes The Dawn. And the transcendental freedom
Of the contemplative night is shackled by routine.
The Muathin of Satan calls the faithless to his deen.
And for the whole day they worship at the altar of the dollar bill.
Led by greed, The great Imam of Materialism, they fulfill
Their religious duty; bowing and prostrating in the direction of Fort Knox
Until it’s Miller Time, or on their day of Jummah’; Party Time.
Then they hold their week end eid amidst the neon slime;
Or adoring the one-eyed idol or some other Great Satanic diversion.
But for her, the sound of Satan’s Muathin is obliterated by:
Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!
Allaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahu Akbar!
Allaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahu Akbar!
And that one shudder during the night’s contemplative scene,
Is worth more to her than all their pay checks, credit cards, and illegally tenderized green.
anonymous
Here's to a brother, once one of us
He kept to the faith, good and pious
But where is he now? oh Allah, I beseech
He's out Friday Night doing drugs on the streets
Did you see it coming, did any of you know?
If you did, did you help him those few years ago?
Now his life is meaningless and bleak
Once a strong brother, now he is weak
Here's to our sister, once righteous and pure
She prayed and she fasted, her Deen was for sure
Now, at eighteen, she's no longer chaste
Her innocent spirit, all gone to waste
God gave us all eyes for us to see
Yet we each still claim "it will never be me"
And these two from our Ummah once claimed that too
So..My Sisters, My brothers,
It could always be you.
al basha
The time has come to ask the self
A question out of sincerity
To ponder from the depths of the soul
And the chasms of the mind
Whether there is a place in the heart
For your brothers and sisters in Islam
Does it pain you to see them?
CRY!
DIE!
Laying awake at night
Praying to Allah
For their protection
For their salvation
For the Muslims to unite
Out of the mist of confusion and fright
Comes clear the question
Love your brother?
Love your sister?
Mullas in Pakistan used to sell
themselves as pious men - say "hell
for you, and heaven for you!" But
that's not the most unfortunate
thing. The unfortunate thing is
now average people dislike things
Islamic. Now, wearing a Beard
is "Mullish", dhikr is "Mullish" -
saying the Shahada is weird.
Just strive for Allah - "you're foolish!"
We are mirrors for each other,
So we are each other, brother.
Candy is dandy,
but dhikr is quicker.
You hate me to distract your eyes,
When a sura I memorise.
But Allah is with the patient,
and not with the couch potato.
And when you stare at the T.V. screen,
You urge me to recite *Yaseen*.
It is an irony,
in my home,
that the television
is opposite the Qibla.
You don't understand.
Your back is to the Qibla
when you watch television.
And when you face the Qibla -
the noblest of directions -
your back is to the television.
I wish Allah returns the Salaams
you deny me in this world, my brother.
I am not a "Mulla" as you think I am,
someone who "uses religion"
by whispering durud sharif
to bug you,
so you leave the apartment,
and I get the plastic chair to sit on.
I read durud sharif to solve the silence,
of a brother who thinks I'm a "mulla",
because I enjoy reciting out loud.
I accept all your allegations. I am worse than you think! I am worse than a mulla! I am worse than you!
And praise be to Allah, Who is above any imperfection, Who is the Source of Peace whether I live or die, whether I'm right or wrong.
Jumu'ah!
The blessed day of Jumu'ah! To a Stranger
As you gaze across to me KIB (Khawaga in Black) author's name withheld by request, 2/24/98 [khawaga means stranger] KIB Protecting you from the worst scum of the IG Even Oasis gets near me The Abdul-Khaliq chem teacher gets wicked on
you Answer back, or chew the fat That's all we can do to those rats Dressed in Outpost black Yeah it's all from the rack You can see me At the corner of Lasilky Getting into those cars of black Arguing with those men that lack Respect, men who live on cigarettes When it comes to money they all fret Cut the pleasantries All I need is some dignity I don't need their sympathy It's all about apathy Muslim, Coptic, Jew Makes no difference to me Family reeks with danger As if I am a stranger I have no home Like a travelling circus that lives to roam Living in houses of foam In spite of this we are together You and me We are the KIB Walking the Weeds of South Carolina author's name withheld by request When I stumbled upon the grass, and pushed away
the weeds of my nafs, I found the fireflies flashing their beauteous
glory, I stared, pondering the ever-emerging radiance from the darkness of a green lost land. Once and again I stared my lost youth in the face A hoping glance into my future When I looked up upon the star studded sky Through the magnificence of my experience in
the forgotten forests I saw a land that my mind had forgotten Being taken to the heavens by our late night
discourses. The light of purity is ineffable; Only moments spent polishing the heart can
illumine the darkness within. Search for that light. We cannot hold it lest we be blinded; the sun
is visible only through clouds. Learn to see the truth behind the clouds. Just Like That anonymous Sometimes I think about the moment of no doubt the fate that reached every tall short person thin be he, or stout when it came it just came just like that the intensity of the pain unconceivable by the brain they said it was like 70 swords aimed to strike how can I bear that if only by a cut, my arm will get so stiff How will I act..... What will I say.... I can't just run away from facing that day All I can do is Pray to Allah everyday in hope that he may make it a simple day I heard that some hallucinated and from the pain committed blasphemy now.... I really won't like that to happen to me at least because at that moment of pain I'll be under so much strain that caring about someone else would be the least Will I go to Janah what my soul always desired? or will I be sent directly to the hellfire? ........just like that My soul always tells me: "No, that won't happen to you.... you are a pious man with a heart overflown with Iman Allah will spare you from the pain".... But how can that be true.... When the Prophet sent to you better than you and him..... peace be upon him suffered these moments too .....just like that Or are you better than him?!?!? So my advice for you ......and for me too is to stick to The Book sent by The Creator of man (and every other thing) The Holy Quran and read a part daily, at least one chapter this insha Allah is good for the Hereafter not only reading.... ....understanding too Quran and Sunnah... stick to these two Is it too hard to do that at once? Well,... and so is ... entering Paradise So DO IT........ that is my advice... .....just like that and pray for the person who wrote this poem so he won't be punished ..... just like that Just Wait shazia ahmad You live your life in darkness we struggle towards the light we strive for purification of
the heart you hide your sins under the
shadow of night Behind your charming smile lies a heart darkened with sin behind that gleaming surface you're really dying within Your lust and greed consume you your lies and deception prevail but on that day, when you will
be judged on that day you will be of those
who fail Look at whats going on around
you evil murder rape hypocricy sin you think you're gonna get away
with it you may plot, but Allah always
wins Your lies will be brought to
light your deeds will be exposed to
all you thought you were gonna live
forever now we're gonna watch you fall On that day your heart will be
examined your deeds exposed, all your
joys, your strife by the one who created you and
caused you to die He will be the one who will
judge your life Your dark oppression, the pain
you caused the pain and bloodshed you deny all that which you caused to
suffer on earth will bear witness against you,
all your lies Your shiny little world will be
broken with the harsh reality of that
which is true all that you have done and
forgotten on that day you'll receive that
which you are due You thought you'd turn into dust
that life was just a game you forgot to think about your
actions and now your excuses just sound
lame We lived our lives struggling
for good you lived your life in wrong and
sin on that day we'll watch you lose
on that day we will win We are the ones who strove for
Allah Fisabilillah we've prayed and
fought you think we'd let you do what
you do not knowing you'd get caught? Live your life the way you do don't think or reflect at all I fulfilled my duty, told you
truth now its on
you, whether you pass or fail Be of the strangers, RasulAllah said this life is nothing but a test you think you're with the victorious but we are the successful, of the best This life is but goods and chattels of
deception the true life is the world in the next and thats the life I'm preparing for may Allah keep me among the blessed. What Will the Date Be??? anonymous What will the date be? Praised be He, who knows the future Lord of The worlds, Creator of every creature Did you sit down and think About the moment when your eyes will cease to blink yes, I am Talking to you sit down and do and do not pretend That it won't Happen to you What will the date be? What will be the time? And Most important... am I the next on line? Oh no you think... not Me.... and even if it was... you say it won't be today.... It will be At a time so far away... like a hundred years or maybe even more When Angel Izrael will be knocking at my door and the problem Is. you know that you know.... That when death comes... it will Come like a blow I just can't believe maybe can't conceive that God knows the very second when my soul will come out of my body And the news will shock everybody So am I ready for the test? The Most important final test? But how can I pass when I knew all the While that when I didn't prepare for a test in school I got a letter in My mail a lousy F for Fail Exactly what I was expecting WHAT AM I EXPECTING??????!!!! Don't take God for granted Yes, He is Merciful His Punishment is also Painful Ya Allah! unknown author All praises are for you Allah, how I hope that
you are there. For sinful though I know I am, your displeasure
I can not bear. Never, till this moment, did I realize how much
I've strayed. Never, till now, was I more conscious of all
those times when I should have prayed. For sins are like heavy baggage, that one
carries through Life, the airport. Why didn't I realize sooner, that Earth is but
a place of sport ? Ya Allah! Forgive me. Save me from the fire of
Hell. Forgive me as you did my parents, from Jan'ah
though they fell. Ya Allah! Protect me. From myself for my soul
is weak. Let me not falter ever, for Jan'ah is the abode
I seek. Ya, Allah! Please help me. For I don't
understand and thus, I fear. What happened to all those moments when I never
doubted that you were near? My actions once were guided, by my faith which,
once, was strong. Ya Allah! please guide me. What happened, what
went wrong? Each footstep that I used to take, I took with
you ever near my side. The Quran was my faithful companion,
Rasoolallah my beloved guide. How I yearn for those bygone days Allah, for I
know that the day comes near When we'll each receive our just rewards, and
Truth will stand sparkling clear. Life is like a spider's web Allah. We get
caught in its tricky snare So thoroughly are we disillusioned, time for
salah we can not spare. I sit here and I wonder, Ya Allah! Why did I
fall so low? What happened to my faith Allah? Where did my
Iman go? In this earthly life of ours, so often does sin
seem right. Falsehood seems to be the truth, as if days are
confused with night. Man is an imperfect creature. And thus, Man
shall always wrong. For the road to Jan'ah is rocky, and the
journey seems awfully long. Ya Allah! Our creator, we are all just pieces
of clay. Please help us with our steps in life, and let
us not lose our way. All praises are for you Allah, I know that you
are near. I know that you have read my heart, and my
words I know you hear. My Shade Khadija Javed You wonder what my shade is, What it represents. Call me anything; An extremist, a fundamentalist, Anything you desire. I don't care. My shade is My protection from this evil world, from roaming eyes, from diseased hearts. Call me anything; Vain or Submissive. don't care. My shade is My Protection of my beauty, reserved for one special gift that God has given me; My Life Partner. This world is but a fleeting moment about to end at Any Time. The Signs are here. The Day of Judgement is coming. No one will enter my grave with me except My body, my heart, my soul. Call me a pessimist Distressed Repressed Oppressed I don't care. My shade Covers me Like a tree from the sun; Like a coat of wax on your shiny new sportscar. My shade My protection, is my Khimaar, I am a woman of Islaam. To A Non Muslim Woman unknown author When you look at me All you can see Is the scarf that covers my hair. My words you can't hear Because you're too full of fear, Mouth gaping, all you can do is stare. You think it's not my own choice, In your own "Liberation" you rejoice. You're so thankful that you're not me. You think I'm uneducated, Trapped, oppressed and subjugated. You're so thankful that you are free. But western woman you've got it wrong- You're the weak and I'm the strong, For I've rejected the trap of Man. Fancy clothes-low neck, short skirt, These are devices for pain and hurt, I'm not falling for that little plan. Always jumping to the male agenda, Competing on his terms. No job share, no creche facilities, No feeding and nappy changing amenities. No time off for menstrual pain- "Hormones" they laugh. "What a
shame." No equal pay for equal skill- Your job they can always fill. No promotion unless you're sterilized. No promotion unless you're sexually terrorized. And is this liberation? I'm a person with ideas and thought, I'm not for sale, I can't be bought. I won't decorate anyone's arm, Nor be promoted for my charm. There's more to me than playing coy. Living life as a balancing game-mother, Daughter, wife, nurse, cleaner, cook, lover- And still bring home a wage. Who thought up this modern "Freedom"? Where man can love 'em and man can leave 'em? This is not free but life in a cage. Western woman you can have your life Mine-it has less strife. I cover and I get respected Surely that's to be expected- For I won't demean the feminine I won't live to a male criterion. I dance to my own tune, And I hope you see this very soon, For your own sake-wake up and use your sight! Are you so sure that you are right? From A Muslim Woman Women of the Veil Hena Farooq Her long, thick, shiny black hair Fell against her back. Her rich, copper skin Gleamed in the sunlight. Her slender figure outlined, With her soft voluptuous curves. But when she stepped outside, She became a ghostly figure of the night. Nothing more to the people Than a dark, shadowy figure of oppression. But she showed them. As she walked down the street, People made way, Men lowered their gazes in utmost respect. And others whispered, As she held her head up high, With pride in her belief And showed them how oppressed she really was! While they whistled at their women, Looking them up and down as they were pieces of
meat to be inspected? She pitied their savage ways. As she walked into the arms of her partner, Her only love, Her husband. Where she was transformed, Into her beautiful self, For only his eyes to see. To the People of the World unknown This is the story that must be told of an Iraqi baby, not very old. Lying in her crib one star lit night How could she know of those planes in flight? She lay there quietly touching her nose, Watching her mobile, wiggling her toes, Oohing and cooing, so sweetly is she, Talking to someone, who could it be? An angel is standing with her in the room. The baby is smiling, unaware of her doom. The crib starts to shake and the mobile goes
round. And suddenly comes a most deafening sound. The ceiling drops in, in a second or two... On top of her crib so she ceases to coo... No one knows how long she lie there Who thought about it? Doesn't anyone care? Is she alive? Is she dead? Is she in any pain? Now that you mention it, who knows her name? Her name is Amal. In English we say Hope. Crushed between the rubble, her tiny fingers
start to grope. Where is my mommy? I love her so dear Come, get me mommy! It's dark in here! I'm scared and I'm hungry and I can't see my
feet. There's blood in my mouth! Give me something to
eat! Where is my daddy? Where's my big brother? It hurts when I breath! Where is my mother?! How long have I been here? Is this just a
dream? I open my mouth, but can't even scream. That angel appears once again to my side, This time with a tear I plead Why have I died? Am I alone in my sufferings? No, there are many
others. In our grief and our misery, we are sisters and
brothers. Who are we? I ask you ... for what crime did we
die? They're throwing a party! Doesn't anyone cry?! Is it True? Am I nothing?! How could it be? Don't they also have babies, just like me? It is war they say, of which death is part. How blind they've become, How hardened of
heart. Did someone say hero? To whom do they speak? A victory claimed for killing the weak?! Why are they happy? Why are they proud? Don't they know that I'm cold in my burial
shroud?! No war has been won; no ifs, buts, or maybes, For Saddam still lives, and they've only killed
babies!!!! Blind Lies Shereen El-Kadi He gazes absently at his red-stained hands, Apparently unaware of the writhing bodies
around him. He is numbed, and feels no remorse -- no pain. The fallen are numbers -- Simply unavoidable "collateral
damage." And he is blinded -- not by the will to survive
-- For it is a one-sided war; But by the attempt to strengthen an id, The attempt to gain and exert supreme power, And for the sake of selfish material
obsessions. The world catches no glimpse of the continuous Pain and suffering of those caught in the
middle. All we see is a man named "hero," Cheered by people who are ignorant of the
truth. Object of Despair
Fahim Firfiray (Abu Omar)
Emma is a lawyer
/other/ MISSION: POSSIBLE Operation: Dawah Good morning, Mr.
Abd Allah. Ex-inhabitant of Paradise, the notorious Shaytan Iblis
and mastermind of the material intelligence ring: KUFFAR, is
seeking revenge on IMF (Islamic Muslim Fundamentalists) after
being dismissed from Paradise with the charge of having hostile
and arrogant behavior towards his Creator, and tempting his
fellow creation to that which is forbidden. Our sources show,
that he is using the spiritually lethal weapon, Nafs, which
erases the remembrance of Allah and the afterlife from the mind
and causes the user to fill his stomach and ego with material
attachments and gives disillusions of temporary highs and
superficial happiness to lure unsuspecting servants from the
Straight Path and blow them into Hell. Your mission, Abd,
should you decide to accept it, is to take the statement of
Tawhid and bring the servants back to the Straight Path. You will
be equipped with Worship and Tawakkul to fight the Shaytan and
his evil Jinn. But these tools will only work when combined with
the Pure Heart. This, you will find in the Valley of
Purification. There, you will need to wash yourself with the
water from the River Repentance, and only then, will you be able
to enter the Cave of Knowledge. Once there, you will meet your
guide, by the name of 'the Rasool (saw),' who will train you in
the ways of the IMF Agents, and take you to the station of Self
Annihilation. It is only when you reach this station, will you be
able to confront and overcome Shaytan and destroy the deadly
Nafs. If you so happen to get lost on your way, consult your IMF
guidebook: Qur'an and Sunnah. As always, should
you or any of your IMF be caught, you will be condemned to Hell.
And if killed, the Angel will disavow any knowledge of your
sinful actions and you will be brought back to your Lord. This
message will self-destruct on the Day of Judgement. Fiamanillah Abd.
Response to the Hebron Massacre
When you stretch your arm to reach a canned good in the market
When your children jump and play together on the street corner
Mine do for I am Palestinian
I am your Ummah and I don't just want your spare change
Rebuild me
Pious Shudder
A Cry For Our Ummah
Love your Brother? Love your Sister?
Haroon Sellars
the BEST day upon which the sun rises!
Full of blessings and surprises
but only for the one that realizes
The reality and the favor
of the shahaadah
A day to increase
in our 'ibadah
Gathering in humility and stillness
no pushing and shoving
Opening floodgates of Mercy and Love
from the Most Loving
Sending prayers of peace upon our Prophet,
the Mercy to all creation
Faces radiating with light
from our excessive glorification!
Coming together with our beloved
brothers and sisters in the deen
Wearing the best of our clothes
not to show off or to be seen
But to be pleasing to Allah
and to increase in His praise
To hear a reminder
and ask for forgiveness for our ways
Uncountable reward for the one who listens
to the Imam and follows the best
of what he says
Surely this is the best of our weekly days!!
Ash Shura
Your searching eyes are questioning me
'How is it you live?' You say
'Do you trek a straight pathway?
With Whom do you daily plead?
Why this Book you always read?
And the dress you women wear!
Why this khimar upon your hair?
In your palm is there some power?
Why then supplicate each hour?
What then, do you claim to share?
For world justice do you care?
Tell me! Speak what is right
What then is your plight?'
In Allah's Name I now begin
'For Him, I do everything
Dependent I am, so I pray
Seeking Guidance night and day
His Good Will I try to live
To share my love and wealth I give
My prayers for blessings never cease
For all creatures, man and beast
My coverings are His decree
To help me grow in purity
And my Qur'an fulfills a need
It strengthens me and my belief
And every human I embrace
Extending peace to every race
My path... Islam, is straight and pure
For every sickness, there is a cure
O stranger! Much talk you raise!
Know this! To God is due our Praise!'
And so is Aisha too
Colleagues going into court
At circa half past two
Its 1 O'clock right now
They grab a bite before the trial
They chat about this and that
Conversing with a smile
Aisha is in full hijab
With a loose all over suit
Emma's in her business wear
With accessories to boot
Emma's really quite bemused
At Aisha's godly ways
She looks Aisha in the eyes
And very firmly says
You're a smart girl Aisha
Why do you wear that across your hair?
Subjugated by "man"-kind
An object of despair
Take it off my sister
Let your banner be unfurled
Don't blindly follow all around
Declare your freedom to the world
Aisha is amazed
But not the least bit shy
She bravely puts her milk shake down
And gives Emma the reply
My dear sister Emma,
Why do you dress the way you do?
The skirt you're wearing round your waist,
Is it really you?
Now that we've sat down,
I see you tug it across your thighs,
Do you feel ashamed?
Aware of prying eyes?
I see the way you're sitting,
Both legs joined at the knees,
Who forces you to sit like that?
Do you feel at ease?
I'll tell you who obliges you,
To dress the way you do,
Gucci, Klein and St. Laurent,
All have designs on you!
In the main, its men my friend,
Who dictate the whims of fashion,
Generating all the garb,
To incite the basest passion
"Sex Sells" there is no doubt,
But who buys with such great haste,
The answer is the likes of you,
Because they want to be embraced.
They want to be accepted,
On a level playing field
Sure, with brain and intellect
But with body parts revealed
Intelligence and reason
Are useful by and by
But if you want to make a mark
Stay appealing to the eye
You claim your skirt is office like
A business dress of sorts
Would we not laugh at Tony Blair
If he turned up in shorts?
His could be the poshest pants
Pinstripe from Saville Rowe
But walking round like that my friend
He'd really have to go
Why do you douse yourself with creams
To make your skin so milky?
Why do rip off all your hair
To keep your body silky?
A simple shower's all you need
To stay respectable and clean
The time and money that you spend
Is really quite obscene
Why do you wake up at dawn,
To apply a firm foundation,
Topped with make up and the like,
In one chaotic combination?
And if you should have to leave the house
Devoid of this routine
Why do you feel so insecure
That you should not be seen?
Be free my sister Emma
Escape from your deep mire
Don hijab today my friend
And all Islam's attire
Avoid all those sickly stares
Or whistles from afar
Walk down the street with dignity
Take pride in who you are
Strength lies in anonymity
Be a shadow in the crowd
Until you speak and interact
When your voice will carry loud
You're a smart girl Emma
Wear this across your hair
Don't be subjugated by "man"-kind
An object of despair
To use your very words my friend
Let your banner be unfurled
Don't blindly follow all around
DECLARE YOUR FREEDOM TO THE WORLD