Looking To Allah To Save Me : A Ramadan Poem

Ramadan entered softly, like a doe, and leaves like thunder: Ten nights and Laylat Al-Qadr…

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Looking To Allah To Save Me

I.

Those who fast will enter
through the gate of Ar-Rayyan.
I’ll take any gate I can,
built for woman, child, or man.

A plot of land
the size of a postage stamp.
A firefly for a lamp.
Safety for my daughter.
A sip of Jannah’s water.

An earthly wife
turned to heavenly wife.
No weariness, no strife.
An eternal life!
SubhanAllah.
Allah forgive us on this night.

Ramadan entered softly, like a doe,
and leaves like thunder:
ten nights and Laylat Al-Qadr,
changing everything,
taking men low
and raising them like saints or kings.

II.

Some admire me.
You’re brave, they say.
We look to you to show the way.

I laugh.
That doesn’t even add up in new math.
Brave? Me?
I’m looking to Allah to save me.

I’ve been down and out
with nothing to my name but a shout.
I’ve been stuck in solitary
listening to my own commentary;

Down in prostration;
A pebble in Allah’s creation;
Praying for freedom and light;
For a way forward, for a wife.

I’m lost. Beaten and tossed,
still trying to figure the cost.
Brave? Me?
I’m looking to Allah to save me,
and looking to the Prophet to guide.
as I walk this rocky path
beneath the sky.

III.

I toe the Beloved’s line:
He, the torch-bearer of humanity’s time.
The Trustworthy one, the Truth-teller,
in this earth a temporary dweller,

a tower of strength, persistent.
Against evil resistant,
never giving in, free of sin.
Suffering, losing loved ones,
losing wife, uncle, daughter, son,

yet still on the path,
the mission fee-sabeel-illah,
mourning, bleeding, preaching.
That which he was given, speaking.

Yes, our Messenger ,
our deliverer and reckoner,
a man from men,
child of a woman,

the seal of Prophethood between his shoulders.
In his determination like a great boulder,
yet tender and kind,
gentlest of humankind,
sometimes afraid and in pain,
praying for relief; praying for rain.

A loving husband and parent
who spoke to angels on their errands;
who saw Paradise
yet sweated in heat and shivered in ice.
He could have been king, anointed and crowned,
yet touched his forehead to the ground.

He left footprints in the dust,
fulfilling his trust,
delivering the word
and passing from this earth
like the passing of an age
now remembered in our following his way,
honoring him as we obey.

And as we speak of him here,
smiling and shedding tears,
we ask Allah to bless him forever:
his family, companions and whoever
follows his way
until the final Day.

IV.

Ramadan entered quietly
like still June air,
and leaves like a million angels in prayer.
Mercy and forgiveness fall like rain.
Here, O worshiper,
there is peace from pain.

As for me, I stumble,
trying not to fumble,
repeating, subhanAllah, alhamdulillah.
For I’m looking to Allah to save me
and looking to the Prophet to guide;
praying for help on the path
that is not wide.

Related Posts:

Please, Be Gentle With God’s Guests In Ramadan I Sh Mohammad Elshinawy

The Definition of Fasting – A Ramadan Poem

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See the Story Index for Wael Abdelgawad’s other stories on this website.

Wael Abdelgawad’s novels – including Pieces of a Dream, The Repeaters and Zaid Karim Private Investigator – are available in ebook and print form on his author page at Amazon.com.