Saturday, 23 April 2011
His iron steed astride a solitary tree at a street barely awoke
A secret rendezvous, an invisible eavesdropping
It was not his first, nor his last, he hopes
A newfound peace, a long sought solace
A chance discovery, from an outset of thievery
From four, there were now five, once there were six,
Seated across each other, while the neighbourhood continues its slumber
One after another they read from a scripture he'd seen but never touched
A melodic resonance of phrases he heard often but never understood
Strung together, they bring calmness to his harried soul.
Yes, he has one, this man of sullied, soiled past
An aimless, directionless journey he never envisioned
Thoughts of only in the next fix, of the next high
A slave hooked to a chain of undoing
Stuck in a road tearing apart his very being.
He closes his eyes now, letting the sweet melodies awash his very being
Deep within he felt a stirring, stung by the sudden warmth
A clarity of thoughts, a clearing of minds
A soothing of soul, a calming of nerves
As tears begin the swell between his shut eyelids
What's that he feels now, a soft touch on his shoulders
A soft "Insyaallah" in his ears, he opens his eyes to spy a smiling stranger
Sitting across, a simple gesture a welcoming an invite
"Am I not unclean? Aren't I unworthy?"
"Am I not to be allowed into a home so pure?"
What is filth, what is pure is not for me to judge, he says
Are we not all in the same journey on the premise of an astrally faith
A trip fraught with ebbs and tides, of lurid temptations
An earthly bridge, so thin, swaying, rocking, inviting surender
To plunge headlong into an abyss so deep.
A second chance, he thinks, a journey he says
Stepping from the shadows made smaller by the peeking sun
A lighted house an inviting recital an open door
Claspings hands so warm so tender.
Insyaallah, he stutters.
Insyaallah, he answers...