Poems

In the serene embrace of the desert, under the vast sky, a noble spirit embarked on a journey along the paths of truth and light. Prophet Muhammad, humble and steadfast, always held his head high a mercy sent to guide us through the darkest nights. Before the call of revelation rang out clear, there stood a heart, gentle, wise, and strong; Khadijah bint Khuwaylid her name we hold dear, a tranquil peace that time can never tarnish. She was the shelter when the world felt uncertain, the steady hand when storms began to rise; through her, his path became clear and certain, a love that soared beyond the heavens. Their home was built on faith, pure and profound, not on riches, though she managed wealth with care; but on hearts united in promises they discovered, a sacred bond that's truly beyond compare. Years flowed with light, patience, and grace, until sorrow dimmed the brightness of that day; yet her memory is one that time cannot erase, her light within his soul will forever remain. Then came the widows, burdened, weary, and tried, hearts left alone by loss and harsh decree; in every bond, compassion would thrive, restoring hope and dignity. No fleeting ties, no shallow, worldly aim, but wisdom shaping every chosen part; through every bond, a higher, noble frame to heal the broken human heart. Aisha bint Abi Bakr a voice of knowledge, clear and strong, a keeper of the truths that the ages need; through her, his words continued to resonate, a guiding light for every land and creed. All were honored Mothers of the Faith beacons shining along the nation's path; in patience, strength, and trust in God beneath, their lives still guide us to this day. Peace be upon him, ever bright and true, and blessings on those who walked his path; a mercy sent for all the worlds to see, whose light will never fade away.
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The '70s sun, a Northern gleam,
Off Norway's coast, a fishing dream.
Long nets unfurled, a hidden snare,
Drifting with tides, upon the air.
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My mother, my father too,
Did excellently well, that's true.
Nnem na Nnam, my heart's refrain,
A title earned, no need to explain.
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I scrape and push, I bend and strain,
Through winter's worst, again, again.
My metal teeth, they bite the ice,
To make a path, neat and nice.
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Unto the known, thy mountain's height
Is but a stone upon the way;
A debt they claim by ancient right,
With naught of gratitude to pay.
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A vagabond am I, as I walk the lonely road,
All I own are the tatters treads I have on, no load.
In my upper coat pocket, I carry a paper cross.
It reminds me of all my love once, and the loss.
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No photograph records
that day's unmaking roar.

Things ripped from skins,
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The silenced coalesce within
disturbances of air.
Ascending ladderways of rain
they hasten everywhere:
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How do I come to a decision?
I sit quietly in a room - alone -
think deeply about the pros and cons,
and arrive at some point, some direction.
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The dog's fur, thick and rough or thin,
Doesn't tell you what lies within.

The raccoon, masked bandit
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Midsummer, wind across the lake
the humid morning breath of thunderheads.
Too small for awkward jutting oars
I rowed in futile circles, out of synch.
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यादों की भंवर का वो हिस्सा,
मैं हूँ उनके जीवन का किस्सा,
जिसने बोया, हकीकत में मैं —
उनकी हस्ताक्षर का हिस्सा हूँ।
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