Political overload... Spiritual Ascension

Static. Torture. Injustice. Death. Darkness. Screams. Mourning. Community. Grievance. Organizing. Resistance. Struggle. Patience. Hope. Freedom. Illumination. Togetherness. Justice. Awakening. United. Continuum. Living. Surviving. Love. History. Right Now. Tomorrow.

Political journey's take us through a path
unpaved in it's structure
long in its ambition
wide in its avenues as people
enter from places
street corners, farmlands, alleyways, market-places and isolated shacks
alive in a voice empowered through an illumination
only joint in chants of iterated theoretical aspirations
ignited against angers of hatred, separation and greediness
joint in a hope for what takes it forward
steps that walk in shoes
awakened a million times too many from eyes
too hopeful to ever see
failure that meets the embrace of another
lost soul
in a struggle
deeper than the rivers inner waves
in breaths that prepare for tomorrows wakefulness
this day holds on to yesterday
with words that have gone silent
in their chatter
and laughter

...

the self finds space now
inside
internally it allows for a spiritual reflection suspected
in every heart broken or separated from puzzles too
articulate to unite
in meanings found only
when a greater goal is asserted
to be found in what comes next
in what holds us within
the greater picture of
what captures our minds in
souls that are birthed after
lost bodies creep away
bringing tears
to seek
His Ultimate Magnificence
turned in the direction
that leaves us bowing for
guidance that is lit
through His command
allowing for what is to be
despite all difficulties
we are left only to uplift our souls
with minds emptied from political affirmations
overloaded with happenings never really there
but through His embrace.

Life. Mind. Thought. Action. Lost. Lived. Felt. Submitted. Survived. Ascended.

Captured bodies, Seeking Refuge ...

This Poem is dedicated to Palestinian children arbitrarily detained in Israeli prisons. And to those that continue to live in confined compounded places, in restricted lands, and torn refugee camps; at home and internally exiled simultaneously.

______________________________________________

Rubbles of dust carried between the boys feet,

rushing through narrow side streets

hitting his shoulders between the pavement walls,

scrapping the surfaces of his skin as he flees.

His body no longer holds control over him,

heels barely touch the muddy terrains

of this camp... cramped, tight, moving bodies

carried in the square parameters of their homes ...

permanently waiting,

temporarily en route,

in exile from the soils of their great-grand-mothers...

Hushing through the violent breaths

clouding his lungs, grueling in pain with every inhale,

his blackened face hides between

his bleeding knees that sting with every tear

dripping on the surface...

Like a bullet shot that tears the ear drums sound beat,

he jumps, in a flash, jetting to the next dark corner

providing haven,

giving shade,

temporarily frozen to gasp another breath,

terrified of his predestined conclusion...

he shuts his eyes, tightly gripping to the loose sands beneath him..

Silently motionless, body no longer sensing any pain..

his mind takes him afar, suppressed from this dark corner,

the light no longer hits his eyes to the conscious realities of now,

his cold body journey’s his soul to a new dimension concealed in space..

As he awakens from the subliminal uncounted lost moments of what was,

he is blinded by the flashing lights exposing

his lifeless body, to surrounding gates of steel..

surrounding him in every corner... right and left..

no where to turn, he stares mindlessly forward,

uttering no sound,

au fait to what awaits

the next act in this story line,

holding cue to the next scene,

holding his tongue to the voices

of the imprisoned character that stands still in him..

Without notice, he begins to feel again,

the slashes that sting his back, splitting open

the screams muted in him..

his eyes no longer veiled by the dazzles of the flashes,

he stares coldly at a young soldier,

smirking, emotionless, cold, vacantly empty..

of the dark destinies that this child holds..

No longer fighting, he surrenders,

against the chains encapsulating his sore wrists,

his tears cease to flow,

against the shields that guarded his soul

his body is left uncovered,

exposed,

abandoned,

dispensed to the darkness of the night..

Falesteen

This poem was written on March 7th, 2009. Recently, after watching 'Miral', I pulled out this poem, reminding me of the time when I was denied entry into the West Bank. Miral, was more than just a movie that spoke to us of the continued protracted struggle Palestinians are hanging on to for over 63 years of occupation. It's about the struggle that lives on, of the Palestinians living inside in the midst of occupation, curfews, detentions, and mistreatment. This poem represents a tiny element of what Palestine, Falesteen means to me.

___________________________________________________________

In you I am
existing in the soils
growing in the very sands that witnessed the sacrifices of its roots

In you I am
preserved in the ashes -- allowing it to raise higher and stronger beyond the face of death
for the innocent beloved laughs -- that once hovered over the skies of Falesteen

In you I am
in the eyes that glistened dreams that spoke beyond bombs and bullets
rising beyond the trenches that is suffocating her

In you I am
eyes that only see straight to the walls
that testify the pain in the bullet holes that peaks through these frail curtains,
giving light to the darkness

In you I am
breathing a light that only sheds through in the falls of curfews


at the position of limited mobility --- a checkpoint questions my right to my nativeness
Identity number 56789039 -- sorry, A-rabs not allowed
invalid entry --- denied entrance -- stolen right to my al3awda
sorry ma’am -- security measures -- decision is not in our hands -- move along now
but where to? frozen in the inbounds of undesignated territories
inhaling the airs that cross border controls, checkpoints, interrogations and check ups
crossing over to calm my patience -- rest assure I will return, we will return
bewildered in the animosity of my existence -- I move along now, next window please
Citizenship ? ancestral origin? Religion? relations? reasons? denials of self-determined rights?
colonial imprints fill its memories of an indigenous right that yearns to return
digging through the layers that form the misconceptions of what forms that which make me
unaware that my search will retrieve the hidden destruction --
concealing slaughters that sting the aromatic surfaces of erased he-stories and her-stories

....

Falesteen exists in you...
zaytoon -- dripping in the tears that feed its undeniably salient growth
pillars -- that read erased territories: Qatamon, Yafa - bride of Palestine, Haifa, Bir Il Sabi3, Barbara, - standing backbones -- Majdal, Khan Yunis, Gaza, Tulkarem, Ramllah, Nablus, Qalqilya..
on and on and on -- miles and miles your gracious body held me -- years before i was birthed
bounded by the umbilical cords of your soil, I am alive, re-defined, in existence
exiled -- a Diaspora -- protracted -- prolonged -- and still waiting,
never forgiving and never forgetting

.....

Today and everyday,
the Mediterranean captures a portrait of your stillness --
reflected off the hot sun that rays hope past the destitute of its struggle
hiding away with the departure of another exiled sunset...

and in the fading images of what was, what is, and what will be...
I am in you...

In the Honour of Our Beloved Prophet.. (Peace be Upon Him)

Flawlessly hand-carved into a rounded string
held in unity under the nature of
His Majestic Remembrance
and in repeated callings of
His Beloved Prophet,
In the Mercy of His Peace and Ultimate Serenity
we pray
give gratitude
and attempt
in our weakest form
in our humanly instinctive defects
to emulate
his Grace
thirty-three times
three times
of ninety-nines
with a remaining
pearl-like token to return once again
back to His Infinite realm,
in absolute admission
to His Oneness.

In his tranquil trustworthiness,
we transpire in aspirational inspirations;
In his most just of affirmations,
we transpire in aspirational inspirations;
In his most delightful of presences,
we transpire in aspirational inspirations;
In his most sheer crystalized character,
we transpire in aspirational inspirations;
In his loving tenderness,
we transpire in aspirational inspirations;
In his sincere passion to capture Heaven in one's belief
we transpire in aspirational inspirations;
In every way we are unable to comprehend his nature
we transpire in aspirational inspirations...

And again

we return,
forehead kneeling in His unfathomed Kingdom

in an obligation

of seventeen prostrations

too little to come close to

pardon our perpetual faulty misgivings
in a reminder of our finite, limited bounded natures
to call
His Name
ninety-nine
in multifaceted reflections
named by the Creator
the One
to believe
manifest
and uphold
His Prophet's most intricate
teachings
unto learners passed
through generations
and millennia's
that will never reach
his musk-like fragrant
filling every breath
with absolute
mercy.

In the cries of the newborn
we recite
Al-Shahada -- a Testimony of Faith,
Guided by the last
Prophet
the Most Beloved
of Prophets
Ahmed

Mostafa
Taha

Ya Sin

Waheed

Abul Qasim

Tahir
Noor
Mohammed, Salah Allahu 3ailihi Wasalam..
in unison with a call
towards Mecca,
to our Maker,
Giver,
Creator,
and Grantor of life
turning not simply our bodies
but meaningless without
our hearts and souls
towards our sole-purpose.

In a day

like today

our Beloved Mother

Aminah, May Allah Bless her..

illuminated with a light

once brilliantly radiated Abdullah [RDA]'s face

birthed through a soul

unlike any other

in a connected union,

today we are thankful

elevated

blessed

enriched

and

forever lost

without his Message

our Beloved Messenger.

اللهم صلى وسلم على سيدنا وحبيبنا محمد صلى الله عليه وسلم