Saracen

UPON the lonely minaret
She sat and watched as the moon wept in sorrow
Cowardly armies marching on her beautiful fields
Colonizing her land, frightening her people
Brandishing their swords, pounding their shields
Beheading sweetly scented tulips
Ignorant to the ancient history beneath their feet
They are deceived by the mission
The agenda of modern-century Crusaders

Blessed is the poetess
Who lived her joyous years
With the company of romantics and storytellers
Sharing the smiles and easing the fears
Giving peace and displaying wisdom
Like Shabistari’s Rose Garden
Radiating and shining with timeless Beauty
She brings light upon the lonely faces,
And like petals dancing in the wind
Her words gently float and glide
Landing upon even the darkest of places
Where a cold-hearted stranger runs into the street
And becomes maddened with song and dance

But war erupted one night
And mayhem surrounded our innocent friend
She saw the army roam through the land
And soar through the sky
She feared for her Loved ones
Frightened by the thought of never seeing them again
She ran from village to village just to stay alive
But nothing in her power would stop the invasion

She will never forget the day
When she heard the explosion
When olive trees and peaceful cities were blown to pieces
When she held her murdered father in her arms
What does this army know about her story?
What do they know about her family?

They march over the blood stained hills
Obedient to the orders of their leaders
Hunting for labels
They once said “Saracen” and “Barbarian”
They say “Towel-head” and “Terrorist” now
Ya Insaan (O People!) when will you tear down the flags?
So-called Muslims, Jews, and Christians
When will you start believing?
When will you have the courage to journey within
And listen to the Soul that sings: Human Being?
When will you have the courage
To burn down the walls of separation?

Behold, the courage to believe:
She kisses her father’s grave farewell
And marches to the front lines
She says: I am not a knight in shining armor!
They won’t allow me on the battlefield
With my Persian drums and flowers
So I will charge into the crossfire
And bring with me an orchestra
One like that of a mystic song

Enigmatic horns, passion drums, Arabian strings
Gregorian chant, wailing of Souls, ancient tongues
A symphony of Angels, fantasia bells, cinematic splendor
Words like shooting stars and exploding into musical rapture!

And when she stood before a thousand soldiers
She was unarmed and fearless
Snipers cannot fire upon such a display of Love
Bullets cannot kill what cannot be seen
Leaders cannot defeat such devotion to ideas

“Who are you?” they ask
And she responds:

I am Iraq, Iran, and Afghanistan
I am Kashmir, Chechnya, and Bosnia
I am Lebanon, Palestine, and Pakistan

Point your rifles at me as long as you want
I don’t care

Because I know, and God knows:
You have no right

You have no right

~ Broken Mystic ~

The Romantic

Every once in a while
When I gaze into the Secret Ocean of infinity
I see the waves reveal a vision of a young man in a dimly lit room
There, he sits and scribbles Passionate poetry

After completing one
He sets it aside near the open window
Then he reaches for another loose sheet of paper
And writes another poem for his Love to grow

He continues his art madly
Watch how the breeze admires his longing
As it whistles through his world and sweeps away the pages
Outside the Love Letters float and wander

Observe how this young man suffers
Knocking at his door, “it’s time to sleep! It’s time to sleep!”
No need to bother yelling, this young Lover won’t take heed
Keep writing says another, keep writing, spill your Passion!

The wind carries away more of his poetry
Passed the trees, over the hills, and into the cities they travel
Where is the one they seek?
Why do you stop, asks Love, keep writing, I want more colors!

Pages flying around his room, his hand exhausted
The young man listens to Love’s plea
Knocking at the door again, “it’s time to eat, it’s time to eat!”
Not yet, reminds Love, keep craving!  Blessed is this fast!

More poetry, more letters, more madness
Winds become stronger and stronger, faster and faster
They send the Lover’s message outside for the beloved to kiss
Yet where is the response, the young man finally questions

Stop asking!  Just listen to the Call!   Listen to the Music!
Laugh with me, servant of God!
Dance with me, son of Adam!
Do not grieve over this world, it will never understand!

Loves pushes hand to pen
Ink to paper, words to meaning
Tears are shed by the wounded poet
How does one explain such devotion?

He weeps over the storm of separation
That marches through the skies
Fearing Darkness will swallow hope
And no one to listen to his cries

Nonsense!  The Angels are in your presence!
Though you do not see them
If only you knew how they admire your experience
Your tears mirror the beauty that you are

The Twin Soul exists
There is no distance, no separation
Romantic ones, there is only one solution:
Love!  Ishq!  Houb!

The young man can’t write anymore
Drained, lost for words, what is there left to say?
His Passion has gone beyond words, Love says open the door
Now it’s time for the wind to take you

Every once in a while
When I gaze into the Secret Ocean of infinity
I see the waves reveal a vision of a young man in a dimly lit room
There, he sits and scribbles Passionate poetry

Take this key and open the Gate of my heart
Look inside
Do you see?

~ Broken Mystic ~

Eid Mubarak!

Eid Mubarak everyone!

Eid Mubarak ho aap ko! Eid-e-shoma Mobarak! Kul sana wa inta bi-khayr!

We all live such busy and demanding lives, and many times, it’s hard to be mindful of the Unseen Beauty that surrounds us. Let’s reflect on all that we have learned this month, let’s implement them in our lives, and let’s celebrate everything that He has blessed us with. Despite any challenges that may be ahead, let’s smile and bring the Light of our being into the world.

May you all have a beautiful day, and may Allah always answer all of our prayers, insha’Allah!

Peace and Love,

~ Broken Mystic ~

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