Repugnant soil, you sprout only thorned fruit.

No steam arises from your cramped carriage.

Precious seeds daily struggle to take root.

 

Strangling weeds squeeze and plunder.

A fog descends that swills the fetid air.

A rusty fork splits your skin asunder.

 

With aching knives it rips up rotten stalks.

A hardened rake prompts furrowing in your brow,

mixing soft dust with rigid chalk.

 

The dry soil cracks from missing water’s kiss.

It cries by night in true apology.

Shrieks rattle through the thuggish mist.

 

Lord of Daybreak, cleave my barren soul!

Show me the rot gripping inner heart.

Clean me from this choking coal.

 

Mighty Allah, show me my true place.

Among the topsoil where I press my face.

To your remembrance let me race.

Let fly Your rain and heal me with Your Grace.

 

I’ve wandered; guide me back to You.

Open my breast, now filled with sorry rue.

Lift up my head and see me through.

I submit myself to none save You.

 

The gentle touch of morning light

sails over this patch of weary sod

and makes this humble dirt delight.

 

From within the depths of folded mud

pokes a curious, verdant head.

An always ever-hopeful bud.

 

I set about to tend it night and day.

Constant begging not to go astray.

In clouded skies, ever there is the ray

of following closely the Messenger’s[1] Way

 

This world is not for sniffing roses,

sitting back in gardens full.

To turn aloof our haughty noses

and not resist the devil’s pull.

 

Sow seed on seed and never cease.

The Lord is bountiful with His gifts.

Your stubborn back, five times, must crease.

With praise of Him, your forelock lifts.

 

Each night is needed for the dawn to shine.

What is my want next to Will Divine?

With Allah, our shaking hearts align

or else are blind to every gleaming sign.

 

O Creator! Forgive my prideful gaze,

and tear me from this heedless daze,

guide my heart through life’s short maze,

Let my tongue never slacken in your praise.

 

Your Majesty, Your Beauty, Your Creative Might!

Your Mercy, Your Healing, Your Unending Light!

Beyond the bounds of mere, pathetic human sight.

Faulty imagination, You only smite.

Your Glory, Your Knowledge; nothing can compare.

In the end, all will receive what’s fair.

To the worried questioner, don’t despair.

To the regretful sinner, turn and bear

your little heart, in true remorse.

Pick your garment from the catching gorse.

Work determined, like the warrior’s horse.

 

Allah, to you I turn and hope,

pull me free with your long rope.

When from this world I must elope,

When eager soul is at my throat.

Let me part with words from deepest heart.

That final journey, I will start.