I am a Muslim writer and English teacher. I have written poetry, short stories, a play, and I am currently working on a novella. My subject matter and themes are related to Islam, Sufism, politics and also my job as a secondary school teacher.
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Was salaam, Peace
One day the four poles met: the north, the south, the east and the west. They gathered and communed, in the sanctified city of Jerusalem, amazingly calm and dynamic; elusive but intimate; separate but conjoined; utterly silent while resonating; invisible to many, while manifest to the few.
“Oh Lord, we have wronged our selves…” The Holy Quran
Foad Amson was in some serious trouble. For a start, his wife, Eve, was on to him and her suspicions were slowly leading her to the truth. Foad had been cheating on her. It was a woman from work who was strangely alluring and remarkably easy to seduce. After one thing led to another, Foad found himself booking a hotel room and engaging in an illicit rendezvous after work. When he returned home that evening, he made some excuse about his colleagues going out to a restaurant, and in the following days, he worked hard to cover his tracks and to convince Danya, the office temp, not to reveal their secret. She obeyed, and his persuasive powers seemed to be working, so he planned to meet her again, at intervals, over the next few months. Danya never invited Foad back to her place, which he respected, particularly as Danya was so gracious as to contribute to the cost of their hotel rooms and food.
Recollecting and treasuring the knowledge That your teachers shared before Is not merely nostalgia Nor is it a sign of your acquiescence Of your teachers’ future errors Verily, your remembrance is simply gratitude For the enlightenment you received And a consolidation of ideas You deem indispensable Your gratitude for the past is fundamental And if your past teachers now thrive, Gives thanks and praise And if your teachers now have erred, Pray for their deliverance For how much of an ingrate is the one Who once lingered and traced their shadows And now sticks a proud nose up in the air Oblivious of the debts you can’t repay For the inner light of knowledge and progress…. And do be careful, now, my compadre As on this theatre of inconsistencies Who knows if you’ll slip far with ease… So don’t be so impatient to condemn The ones who gave you such benefit before…. Advise your seers should they transgress And prosecute should they oppress But never forget the good that you received…
Some would-be sailors reported abuse by a line of skippers, and returned to the shore, heartbroken, anguished, and perturbed.
One of them said: “We must bring them to account! We have been wronged! Looks like there are no true skippers anymore….”
The ocean listened patiently, heard their pain like a mother, and spoke from within the rising and falling waves:
“Wrongs must be addressed…. You must act with unrelenting fairness.. For all who embark upon the journey deserve a fair hearing.”
Waves ascended majestically and then fell, like swooning dervishes; the water swelled, then settled, proclaiming:
“But there will always be true skippers, who have navigated the ocean, who have travelled far, far, far through me and can show you the way. And there have always been false skippers, full of names for my waters, but full of hot air within. So why do you give in? Was I your goal or was the skipper’s good pleasure your idol? Did you pine after my vast mysteries, or were you just enjoying the cruise? Did you think I would let you voyage upon me without some stillness, without the currents throwing you off course, without assailments by pirates dressed in a skipper’s cape? Perhaps there was nothing wrong with the skipper? Perhaps he was a true guide, and the problem was in your self?”
The ocean grew into an almighty breaker, falling with a thunderous clap, then rested and rocked hypnotically:
“Keep your hearts with me, and I will send you everything you need… Keep your attention on my waves, and I will move you further ahead… And absorb the beauty of the light of my full moon… But remember this, the point is not the skipper, the point is the Sea. If I am no longer your one desire, and it’s just all about you or the skipper, then either you are off, or the skipper is off… So, seek redress with the law, if crimes and oppression were perpetrated, for the pirates in the garb of skippers must be rounded up, but keep your gaze on me; make me your one and only concern, make my vastness your dreams.. Remember the signs of a true skipper, and if you gained from any of the skippers on this sea; if you were guided further through my waves, you must show thanks and send your sincere supplications their way- for they are my special ones; I have brought them closer to me…. But also know this, my skippers can never be as vast and as perfect as me…. Never lose hope in the ocean… And enjoy the resplendence of my full moon, which brightens my waters and fills your hearts with light!”
The ocean breathed out like a hidden saint and then slept soundly, like a sleeping baby. They turned their eyes from their troubles, and looked out- the waves shone, like hearts…