
1
What should I do
with the white here
in the cold heart of Canada,
cyclically born and soul-numbing
like the air of the barren tundra?
And who says
like a cracked compact disc:
"t,t, that's just how it's been
here forever eh"
and doesn't explain the here forever.
Ummah, rise. unlock the door
and close it behind you
2
A different kind of believer.
As of today. don't fear salaams, don't forget
salat, or acts of goodness, don't
shut out the soul
placed in the valley of the King
that bears the heroic
fire, which split
itself from yourself.
Stand completely silent in
the greatest struggle
and if you reach out
toward small kindnesses
don't say any longer: I was caught in a trap.
"Learn your place
in the world, be not of the world"
3
A believer passes and says
a takbeer
or
two or three and
knocks
on a gate closed
within a gate
that envelopes him,
blocking his soul.
The believer sings and his Ummah sings. The man
cries, of whom does he cry?
That's the crux and
there is nothing,
the believer has everything; eyes
fill with tears on a prayer mat.
That's the pilgrim's truth that
follows the man
who told us something about
this dunya and ourselves and left
on the same path that we blindly
walked before
4
The straight path
near the Katimavik community
people of diverse shapes and colours,
there is no compulsion here.
A homosapien herd approach their
laid out table and eat
everything, even His hand
as it bountifully gives to them,
uncovered stones, open doors
the truth lay between hearts.
It's rumoured a white horse was seen
traveling from Latium through, יְרוּשָׁלַיִם to
المملكة العربية السعودية
along the Red Sea
to vanish in an oasis
in a flash of light.
A moment later,
The taste of the sweetness for all,
Islam.
5
And when do you think
is the right time
to exit the darkened world
and step upon truth's path?
With a single bismillah
the heart enters Islam
(a quiet tasbeeh and a silent tahmeed)
like an enfant who peacefully feeds
at the bosum of a mother
warmed both inside
and outside his body.
And a cold heart hasn't
any foundation to build upon?
The ever-moving, ever-changing ethos of
the white here
in the cold heart of Canada
and its hands and ten fingers
greedily grasping at melting snow
as if close to making a decision.
6
In these modern days,
it's time to question:
up to where in this righteous
struggle
must we struggle, between
happy and glorious,
in order to realize
we've nailed it?
What is this intangible
infinite thing that makes
everything tangible and finite --
to see, touch, taste, smell and hear
in the barren tundra?
Once again I have to ask:
What should I do
with the white here
in the cold heart of Canada?
7
So
Ummah, rise. unlock the door,
and close it behind you.
"Learn your place
in the world, but be not of the world".
The believer sings and his Ummah sings
-- a takbeer or two or three.
A moment later tastes the sweetness
that is the straight path --
greedily grasping for the elusive truth
as it slides through two hands and ten fingers
Leading to more struggle in
this happy and glorious land.
Once again to ask:
"What of this barren land?"