31/01/2016

#poem #poetry #amwriting the muslim's tale viii

abandoned now upon the rack
yoked as a slave to the flesh
inshallah he hears a hundred times
cain's mark he bears upon his head

in the lower forest of the climb
where man does not clear nor farm
a narrow track threads the groves
of shadows without near or far

and here to ali's great dismay
a feasting tiger bars the path
half hidden by the shafting rays
and the weighty buffalo carcass

don't cry out says the buffalo
nor listen to the growls
nor look into the tigers eye
nor try to run if she prowls

but be strong in allah's sight
pass bravely my honoured death
as I feed your foe - you must recite
for me - your friend - the janazah

thus saying the buffalo fell dead
on voiceless lips ali groaned the prayer
three times for his fallen brother
and an instikhaarah to ward the fear

day passed to purple night
the mercury of the seeker's path
ran ever upwards in false hope
that this ascent might be the last