Sahoor

Inspired by Shaykh Amin's talk on sahoor from a couple nights ago.

There is a moment magical

When day breaks free from night,

When seed is split and life begins,

Witnessing Allah's Might.

But when the hand of man does it,

It fashions pain and strife;

It takes the Hand of God to split

And manufacture life.

The use of magical here is deliberate. Shaykh Amin pointed out that the Arabs observed the magic in daybreak, giving rise to sihr and sahoor stemming from the same three-letter root. Fascinating!

I'll Have A Guest

One more day... 
I wrote this for the kids. If anyone out there has stanzas to contribute, email me or add in a comment below.
----
Let's tidy home and break the oud
And set its fragrance free,
Let the money flow, and the faces glow
With smiles of charity.

    'Cause I'll have a guest when the Ramadan moon,
    The Ramadan moon is born,
    Is on its way, and will be here soon
    To mend my spirit that's torn.

To stay by me through the midday heat,
And to quench my burning thirst
With a drink of Quran to help defeat
Myself when I'm at my worst.

    I'll have a guest when the Ramadan moon,
    The Ramadan moon is born,
    Is on its way, and will be here soon
    To mend my spirit that's torn.

To carry me on a wink of sleep
Through the night until the dawn
And to teach my eye to swell and weep
Before my guest is gone.

    I'll have a guest when the Ramadan moon,
    The Ramadan moon is born,
    Is on its way, and will be here soon
    To mend my spirit that's torn.

To taste that sweet remembrance, comes
In a cool and timeless night
When the wakeful eye of a slave becomes
Awash with eternal light.

    Oh, I'll have a guest when the Ramadan moon,
    The Ramadan moon is born,
    Is on its way, and will be here soon
    To mend my spirit that's torn.

Let's tidy home and break the oud
And set its fragrance free,
Let the money flow, and the faces glow
With smiles of charity.

    Oh, I'll have a guest when the Ramadan moon,
    The Ramadan moon is born,
    Is on its way, and will be here soon
    To mend my spirit that's torn.

Poetry Potluck & On The Spot

I entered On The Not So Many Things I Cannot Stand into the poetry pot luck and Bryce J. nailed it.

The On-the-spot prompt was Good Advice Gone Bad.  I couldn't come up with any advice, so I decided to call my father before the first event began and asked him to blurt out any advice that came to him. I managed to contrive a Shakespearean sonnet, but I think it lacked the punch needed for a winning performance. I should have gone with a rap.

My father, bless him, always used to say,
"Son, always mind the company you keep."
I took it in a literal sort of way,
Not bothering to wade the waters deep.
And so I hung with folks of manner mild,
Avoided rubbing tattoo-laden shoulders
And chose to steer clear from the wild,
Preferring peace among the office folders.
And this was how I navigated years,
Assuming good was good and flocking to it,
Until my poor judgement fell in tears
Reminding me how terribly I blew it.
I should have listened closer when my Dad
Advised me how to tell the good from bad.