Welcome, it’s our monthly Poetry day again! If you want to share your verses with everyone here, kindly email us at poetry[@]muslimmatters[.]org stating your name, along with your poem.  As soon as your poem is selected for publishing, we’ll let you know so that you can keep an eye out for it, Insha’Allah. JazakumAllahu khayr for sending in your poems!

Without further ado, here are the three inspiring poems we’ve selected for today…

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My Love Story
By an anonymous submitter

She came into my life, when I needed her the most
When I had lost it all, the trust, the care, emotion.

She taught me that I could trust people again
That I could love and respect once more.

Making me think different to how others would perceive.
When I felt weak, she’d empower me.

Her presence was pleasing and brought peace to my heart
The scenes of the world were colorful now, pure art.

She encouraged me to ask Allah, and He would give..
So by His Mercy I’d learn patience, and to forgive.

We’d work together and be strong.
Even though our journey was tiresome, and long.

But time moved forward, and situations changed.
The world distracted. The love didn’t increase, just conflicted.

“I’m sorry,” I’d say regretfully.
“Repent to Allah,” she would reply.

But the love wouldn’t rise again. Sins would rise. Our relationship began to change…
My heart was greedy, and it wanted more.

The gaze wouldn’t lower when passers flaunted
The heart said no, but the desires taunted.

The heart covered itself in dirt of black.
Soon.. she left, and didn’t come back…

The regret hurt, and loneliness messed my head.
Couldn’t go sleep, couldn’t rest.

I covered the pain with sin
Might remove this pain I’m in?

The pain persisted and the desire more
So I increased in rebellion but this feeling wouldnt go..

I had lost myself…
My regret overpowered

I went in search, she was with her protector
Waiting to be found, just waiting for me to come around.

She missed me too
But I couldn’t be with her, until I gave her her due.

What is your due, I humbly asked?

“To pray, to obey, and be steadfast
That’s the only way our relationship lasts.”

“To be the friend of Allah, and think of death often.
To humble yourself, and do good action.”

“To prepare for that moment, when we all run away
Except the one who prepared for that Day.”

“So fear Allah and be committed
To our relationship, so you’re admitted…
In the gardens of joy.”

“Don’t be the people of hell
the home of destruction, a fire filled cell.”

“Mend your ways now, it’s the right thing to do,
Deep down, you know I care for you…”

I listened attentively, understanding.
I was wrong in desiring more.

When she was enough for me, when she gave me joy.
That smile of that kid, who finds his best toy.

The simplicity, the balance, the pact we kept.
That’s what we wanted – without regret.

I asked her Protector, who gave her to me, back.
This experience had put me on track.

Except this time I was sure
I didn’t need to exceed desires for more.

The experience gave me fresh strength
The true Joy was in being content.

…

We’re now together – together till death,
A promise we’ve, up till now, kept.

I hope it remains this way.
Oh Allah, don’t let us stray.
From your Mercy and pleasure.
Since that’s the only way, we’ll stay together.

Now you know, this was my love story…
Except, it wasn’t what you expected it to be.

This girl, her name was Imaan*.
Except she wasn’t a girl, she’s my faith – that kept me strong.

Imaan is my joy, my love, and pleasure.
The one I’ve tried to find – through many – in Haram,
Except this caused the least harm,
The one I still treasure.

* Meaning Faith/trust [i.e. Iman billah (a trust/contract with Allah/God)

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I am the child
By Manal Wazeer

I am the child that was rudely taken away,

The one whose picture in the newspaper, brought a storm of sadness and dismay

Stories were told, people felt – few wept

Perhaps, my murderer to him no guilt crept

I am the child who soon will become a mere body count

In the numbers that have long been forgotten, to whose account?

Some unlike me , didn’t have a picture taken

Nameless, faceless to the world. Never to awaken.

I am the child whose mother’s devastated face was lined with tears

As she held me in her hands, bidding good bye for a handful of years

Oh this suffocating pain, so cruelly unjust

Slowly she picks up the pieces of her now broken heart, only in Allah will she trust

I am the child that defines the word oppression

The one whose now shut eyes , plead to all without discretion

Say a prayer, if you cannot do much

For in your silence, the invisible count just went up a notch

Soon enough, in a time to come – I am the child that will get my justice

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A War of Words
By Jasmine Javid
Silver Pens
Bleeding golden expressions
Thoughts manifest,
Subtle, yet powerful,
Toting abysmal meaning
Akin to these words, I seek to validate my existence
I know I’ve been chosen for a noble cause
So with this silver pen, my sword, and these thoughts, my steed,
The desolate lands of in cognizance await me

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