When the steed of my heart aches in weariness,
slit its throat with the sword of your tongue.
Move me with your wisdom, I can handle it despite that I am young.
Allow my blood-soaked sins to trickle into the river of purification.
Then bring your lips to the incision you made, and with your affection, make the pulsing pangs of this world dissipate.
You’re never too far for me to feel,
but if the cries of my steed prevent me from hearing,
call to the wind and convince her of all the goodness a union like ours could bring.
& if we are deserving, she will whisper your message to me.
Peace & Blessings,
In the desert of my soul, I know there is truth.
It may be hard to find, hidden in the sand dunes.
But if the wind that carries my faith is strong,
then the weighted grains of desires will fall,
leaving uncovered, the light that I’ve searched for all my life.
Now that I have it, my ankles shrink slim and free
from the chains of why’s and what is or isn’t meant to be
the clarity is blinding
…Now that I have it, how should I handle this?
Every night, my dear Shamsa awakes from her sleep.
She does not leave the bed from hunger or an ill dream.
Nor does she speak to me as she untangles herself from the sheets.
Verily this is her routine.
She does not know that I see her in these late hours of the night.
But my adoration for her grows tenfold with the prayer mat she unfolds.
Never have I seen an insomniac so pure.
Never do I forget to thank my creator for a lover who lights the darkness with her noor.
Peace and Blessings,