Punctured Hearts

With punctured hearts,

We persist on presenting

A person un-punctured,

Unfazed,

Unhurt,

By the consequences

Of hopeful relationships

That have led to no avail.

Our counterparts,

However,

Appear

And are

Unhurt,

Unfazed,

Un-punctured,

By what they had claimed

At one point or another

To have meant so much to them.

Our mother examined us,

Judging us

Our beauty:

In tact

Our bodies:

Not unappealing

Our intelligence:

Apparent

Our age:

Slipping away

Her conclusion:

Inconclusive

And so puzzled,

She continued making phone calls.

Meanwhile,

We counted the moments

From whence it ended,

Minutes taunted us,

Masquerading as hours,

Days cheated us,

Claiming to be months,

All the while,

They couldn’t care less,

They couldn’t care

Enough.

You see,

Our sadness,

Our disappointment,

Is purely circumstantial,

Our pain,

A circumstance of not accumulating,

What we believed to have been deservedly ours.

At least by this point

In our lives!

Thus,

Our happiness,

Or lack thereof 
Is a persistent pain,

Unwittingly keen in permitting

Indulgence on this point,

And this point alone:

What's the point? 

One consoled the other,

The other consoled

Another,

Each one aware

Of offering false hope,

Since all the while

A little voice

Whispered

What if that was as good as it got?

And so we continue,

Embedding hopes

And dreams in others,

Busying our existence,

Away from what we could have imagined,

Settling

With instilling intelligence

On the next generation,

With our punctured hearts,

With our fazed hearts,

Having learnt

A very valuable lesson

Repeatedly,

And the hard way,

To not trust ourselves

Our counterparts,

But to turn away

And leave this matter

Alone

To God.

Guilt

What I would like to know,
Is when will you stop?
When will you leave me alone?
- and emerge satisfied,
Parting with me,
Until your insistence
leaves behind
a truly failed human being?

All the drama,
Dissatisfaction,
Despicableness,
Dishonor,
Disloyalty,
Will finally no longer be the prerequisites for living,
And some peace
will be scrounged,
Enough to surpass any guilt
of having lived hypocrisy.

There is a darkness that persists
deep within me
and no matter the glorious moments
of Light
and being found,
my shadow grieves me,
frightens me,
taunts me,
and soon thereafter
I have to face the reality
of what my own hands have earned.

Repentance releases
some forbearance,
(Maybe I can be saved)
Yet continued existence
Deviates my mind,
To remember,
To recall,
To understand,
To apply religious melodies
to my own
case study of existence,
And after careful evaluation,
There is no shying away from the conclusion,
Something that can be summed up,
With an obvious judgement...

I am unworthy of Heaven,
Unworthy of salvation?

Does this mean I have failed my assignment?
And if so why is the floor beneath me not opening,
swallowing me whole?
Why is my inevitable destination,
Being prolonged from greeting me?
Is it because it's all a joke?

We are told that Saint
Rabia Al-Basri ran around with fire in one hand,
and water in the other,
hoping to burn Heaven
and drown out the fires of Hell,
So,
those who worshipped out of fear
or loved entry into its polar opposite,
Would not so,
And instead, worship out of pleasure,
To please our Creator,
To honor our Covenant.

So this is where I am now,
Worshipping to honor my Covenant,
To acknowledge my Creator,
Not out of want of Heaven,
Nor from fear of entering Hell,
But because
I need to,
I want to,
Because God is One,
And my actions poly;
good, great, bad, hypocritical,
But my journey is not over,
My meeting is still forthcoming,
And I know my reunion
Is with One,
So to not acknowledge His existence
Appears foolish to me,
And so my conclusion is...
My salvation lies with my worship, Insha'Allah.

Pardoned

Pardon me
Pray tell me, does my
Poignancy offend you?
Pointing to your own ineptness to
Perceive the reality of your own character?


Please spare me your
Pretty parcels of deception, I refuse to accept
Poetic words of transcendence in our relationship,
Pity me if you like, im-
Print my character as you like, but please
sPare me these deceitful
Plagiarised emotions! But
Please don't just label me as lonely and
Plug me in a bracket for you to
Pick and choose when to reacquaint me in your
Precious club, ultimately we are all alone
Pending our meeting with our Divine Creator,
Part time distractions are everywhere
Pinning us away from what the true
Purpose is to this worldly existence, these
Perplexed pondering is what I have, and you have your
Preoccupied merridom to busy you, I will no longer
Persist to advise you
Pleading for you to be a better
Person than I,
People change,
Priorities change.