Prières Persanes Silencieuses
O! The Sublime Hidden One:
Conceal me midst the seventy thousand
shrouds [1]
A secret betwixt the light and the
dark
So the wolf of her loss shall never
hunt me down
Conceal me amongst the Columbus
clouds
A sterile-thunder in darkness of her
sobs [2]
So my eyes shall never rain upon her
grave abound
Conceal me between the holy pages
aloft
A sacred angelic hymen hummed
So my sobs shall never be heard by
mankind aloud
Conceal me silken amongst the Tuba
blossoms [3]
A gown tailored by angels of the
skies
So she shall never walk naked the
gardens of paradise
Conceal every blazing sun into the
ocean of mine eyes
My vision boiled away blind
So never behold her life-less eyes
lowered into dust
Conceal me a deadened note of the
trumpet [4]
Clarion call commencing the reckon
So I shall not be raised to account
for her tears
AIDS was her dowry, funeral
procession her wedding, bridal
suite her tomb, where she lost her virginity to the ever-young groom of
the
dust. Her honeymoon is this picture and what little chance she is
proffered,
she lives in our eyes for a glance or two, gazing upon herself in agony
and
loss, like a lioness prancing upon herself to hunt. Those feet never
got a
pedicure for her wedding and before she passed on, I… yes! I denied her
meager
pleasure of a clean garment, buried swaddled in the invisible cerecloth
woven
by her own tears. Her angelic hands never prepared a full meal and
never wrote
a word in any language. And I murdered her with my very hands, hands
made from
negligence and arms muscled by finance. [5]
Though she is alive and
accounted for by her Maker, I forgot
her to death! No! I was busy worshiping the god of amnesia, whom
wealthy are
his subjects, machines his angels, buildings his saints and money his
scripture.
Writing these extolled words
with hypocrisy, sipping a cup
of coffee like aristocracies, a cup sweetened by the labor, toil of her
life-less sable svelte hands. And I am that arrogant false-god, who
forcibly squeezed
the sweet nectar of her child-being. So I might, my mightiness galore,
taste
another momentary pleasure to the brim.
[1] The Sublime Hidden One is the
Creator who wishes to be
in hiding to see what we do to each other, once we are left alone, some
having
power over others. Between this Beloved and us there is seventy
thousand
shrouds of light and darkness, I will add the Hadith (narrations from
Prophet
Mohammad) reference for this later on by Allah's Grace. I have not
found the original Arabic
text.
I learned this usage from Araqi.
[2] Sterile-thunder is from T.S. Eliot
[3] Tuba: Arabic/Koranic word for
everlasting unconditional
happiness or the name for a fantastic large tree in Paradise, the fiber
of its
blossoms makes up the gowns of righteous dwellers. Koran Ar-Rad
(Thunder) 13:29
[4] This little nobody Haitian girl
died from AIDS and we
think, we suspect, we exalt ourselves above and beyond all
responsibility and
liability. But what was sent to the heart of Mustafa (i.e. “The Chosen”
another
name for Prophet Mohammad) clarion calls to our ears, “Hey! You shall
be
raised to answer for these girl’s death and suffering”. Trumpet
reference is
from Koran Az-Zumar [39:68]:
I am asking for exemption from
that day.
[5] Imposing embargo on natives of
Haiti is meaningless and
serves no purpose neither for peace in this small forsaken island nor
benefits
any neighboring country nor the world as a whole. It only serves the
purpose to
destroy their righteous and good mannered peace loving folk and
promotes the
murderers, crass gangsters and black markets. Haitians are butchered
not with
weapons of any army, but with financial atrocities to starve them to
death and
destroy their young generations one after the other. Of course AIDS is
not
helping. That is the meaning of a murderous arm muscled by finance.
Background: A Haitian girl
dying from AIDS in a tropical storm.
©
2003-2002,
By Dara Shayda