When I Woke Up
I woke up to an empty space
That place where I would see your face
The pillow cold, the covers neat
Our big old dog lay at my feet…
…Waiting for me to get up.

I got up to an empty space
I made my coffe in the same old place
Your cup sits empty in the cupboard there
On the counter some breakfast we used to share…
…I cannot eat.

I walked out to an empty space
I drew a smile upon my face
But deep inside my heart would cry
Sometimes so bad I thought I’d die…
…and I do.


Never-ending Thoughts

Never-ending Thoughts

My thoughts are many, but fragments;
Each one not making any sense on its own.

Haven’t quite figured out how to put all the pieces together;
Perhaps…no, that would be the easy way out.

Each end looking for a beginning;
Each beginning keeps starting over.

Is it the past merely repeating itself?
Or is it trying to teach a lesson that can’t be learned?

The answer is somewhere between the beginning and the end.

Because the end, ultimately, is death

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The Stalker

The rain comes down and goes deep into the ground.
 Cold winds blow over the graves of the dead,
 While they lie silent in their beds.
 Perhaps they have it better than I 
For they cannot cry.
 No one knows and no one can say 
What life holds in a day.
 Death is a silent monster who stalks waiting for
 The last day to see what I will say.


Let the days you do what you want
Medicine breath if a court ruling
The panic of the accident at night
What incidents of lower survival
Be a man for horror skin
Himtk and tolerance and to meet
Although it has many weaknesses in the creatures
Your password and have a cover
Generous cover every defect
Covered by the generosity as has been said
Does not see the humiliation never curse
The scourge of gloating Aloaada
Do not shake the tolerance of the skimpy
What in Hell is thirsty for water
And sustenance is not lacking in careful
And not more than living in the effort
Or sorrow or pleasure lasts
You do not misery and prosperity
If you are a heart is content
You and the owner of this world, whether
It was revealed courtyard Almnaya
Not protect it and the land of sky
And the land of God and the broad but
If the judiciary had no space down
Let the days betrays all the time
What is a substitute for drug death


Let the days you do what you want
Medicine breath if a court ruling
The panic of the accident at night
What incidents of lower survival
Be a man for horror skin
Him and tolerance and to meet
Although it has many weaknesses in the creatures
Your password and have a cover
Generous cover every defect
Covered by the generosity as has been said
Does not see the humiliation never curse
The scourge of gloating Aloada
Do not shake the tolerance of the skimpy
What in Hell is thirsty for water
And sustenance is not lacking in careful
And not more than living in the effort
Or sorrow or pleasure lasts
You do not misery and prosperity
If you are a heart is content
You and the owner of this world, whether
It was revealed courtyard Almnaya
Not protect it and the land of sky
And the land of God and the broad but
If the judiciary had no space down
Let the days betrays all the time
What is a substitute for drug death
_____ _____


Tell me I can get lost,
Tell me I can lose myself in your Presence,
In the overwhelming moment of real submission.

Tell me I can remain forever broken
In You
For You
With You.

Tell me I can remain forever
Away, while still here.

Did not the Prophet say: “Die before your death”?

At first I thought maybe it was only a reminder
to remember our meeting with You.
But then I thought how I wish I could die before my death:

Have a soul that is no longer in this life—even while the body must remain.

A heart that is freed from the shackles of dunya—even while the legs must walk its streets.

Have a nafs that is in complete rest and satisfaction with its’ Lord–even while the crumbling shell remains.

A soul that is already there—even before it is there.

A soul detached.

A SAD Mother IN ME.

A SAD Mother IN ME.

Should I blame the endless fate?
Or Should I blame some one?
When I see my empty hands.
My heart squeezes to death,

My son.
It was a wonder to have you in me.
For months I bore you with care.
How could I say my feelings my Son!
Your silent birth gave me a scare.
I didn’t hear your cry my child.
I didn’t see your face.
Your silent birth and silent death.
Has surely left back a trace.
The memory of your 12 hour life.
Is the only thing I got.
I touch the place you were for months.
And I surely miss you a lot.
I promise you my sleeping son.
Your loving soul,

I will always be.
No one hereafter shall have your place.
As always there shall be,
“A Sad Mother In Me”.

(To My Unborn Son , Whom died before birth)

Death is Beauty

Come here and place your hand across my mouth
Silence my whispers
When I said you were beautiful it was true
But I didn’t mean it
I just had to tell you.
You took an old cat and drowned it
How anybody could I really don’t know
You said you meant not to
But death is the friend of your frenzy
What meaning comes from meaningless words
More than words you meant to say?
Death is beauty
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the ends of the world
Where the good and the bad and the worst
And the best have gone to their eternal rest.
There shrines and palaces and towers
(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)
Resemble nothing that is ours.
Around, by lifting winds forgot,
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
No rays from the holy heaven come down
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently —
Gleams up the pinnacles far and free —
Up domes —
Up spires —
Up kingly halls —
Up fanes —
Up Babylon-like walls —
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers —
Up many and many a marvelous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
So blend the turrets and shadows there
That all seem pendulous in air,
While from a proud tower in the town
Death looks gigantically down.
There open fanes and gaping graves
Yawn level with the luminous waves;
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol’s diamond eye —
Not the gaily-jeweled dead
Tempt the waters from their bed;
For no ripples curl, alas!
Along that wilderness of glass —
No swellings tell that winds may be
upon some far-off happier sea —
No heaving hint those winds have been
On seas less hideously serene.
But lo death is beauty; a stir is in the air!
The wave —
There is a movement there!
As if the towers had thrust aside,
In slightly sinking, the dull tide —
As if their tops had feebly given
Avoid within the filmy Heaven.
The waves have now a redder glow–
The hours are breathing faint and low —
And when, amid no earthly moans,
Down, down that town shall settle hence.