...the beardless men

Basking in the flames of defeat,
the beardless men asked for the leper’s hand.
While the clouds swept in
like a desert sandstorm.

And she smiled again;
Not because she’d seen the beardless men fall back
But because the score had been settled.

 

She remembered when her sisters were dishonoured,
When the throats of the noisy little kids next door were slit,
As the once proud men on the street were stripped naked and tortured,
She remembered the boy who starved to death,
And the girls who traded their pride for food,
As the world watched on unperturbed.

 

But then the clouds marched in
Shading the homeless from the sun
And pouring rain to wash away the filth left behind by the beardless men.

 

The clouds spread;
Reaching town upon town,
Field upon field,
Until eyes turned green
While others turned red
In envy and hatred.

 

Then the dogs started to bark at the clouds
While they wagged their tails at the beardless men.
The dogs, the friends of the beardless men
And the clouds, too far up to be bothered by the dogs…

 

The women of this world
Are of two camps;
Those whose desires are for the dun’ya  
And those whose hearts yearn for the aakhira while working towards it.

 

Let the beardless men
Acknowledge their weakness
And let the sincere lions charge at the filthy hyenas
That crossed the boundary.

 

This world is like a path.
You can either keep walking
Or you can camp beside the path like the disbelievers
And watch the travellers rush to Allah’s promise.

 

But do we see
Or do we look?
Are we Muslims
Or are we just people?

Where are our hearts?

Are our wealth and lives too precious
To be sacrificed for our aakhira?

 

Or maybe, we just don’t understand
What Islaam really is…