Change My Heart

This du'aa in verse is the original work of the esteemed Shaykh Zulfiqar Ahmed Naqshbandi.  It is a beautiful supplication. I wrote this translation at the request of my wife, who loves the original version.


I beg you, Lord, to change my heart,
So steeped in every heedlessness,
Enslaved by passions, avarice,
And vice I shudder to confess.

Your Mercy, Lord: transform my heart,
Bring back to life its every part.

I've tired of my sinful ways,
So cleanse and mend my withered heart,
That I may hear it sing your praise;
I beg you, Lord, to change my heart.

That I might turn my eye away
From what displeases you, I pray
That every moment of my day
Be for your sake: Lord, change my heart.

My every peace and every joy
For something of that solemn grief
That brings with it the sweet relief
Of Your remembrance; change my heart.

I lay, defeated, at your door;
Why am I so, Lord? Change my heart
That I may be for ever more
Your servant, Lord; transform my heart.

My Lord, I beg you, set me free
By making me your humble slave,
For that is all I wish to be.
Lord, hear my plea, and change my heart.

O Light of heavens, Light of earth,
This darkness from my heart dispel;
Replace its grief with lasting mirth,
That in Your Light it might revel.

My Lord, my inward state, reform,
My disposition, well adorn;
My stray and heedless self abate;
Reform me, Lord, and change my state.

Lord, give me from your fount until
Of love for you, I've had my fill.
My inward state, My Lord, reform,
My disposition, well adorn;

Your Mercy, Lord: transform my heart,
Bring back to life its every part.

To the Proud Parents of Sulayman

For every of his infant cry,
That brings to you a weary sigh:

May your ears be blessed with the music of the angels and the celestial sounds of the divine recitation.

For every moment of arrest:
(It is what Sulaymans do best)

May you roam the grounds of vast, verdant gardens, hand in hand, unrestrained.

For all the suffocating phews,
All brought about by his refuse:

May you smell the varied fragrances of Jannah and ever find yourself in the company of its fragrant dwellers.

For every wakeful night that's spent,
And each arousal inclement:

May you find restful repose without weariness on the warm grassy banks of babbling waters.

May Sulayman be your greatest reward forever, and ever.

On Cancer, Guns, and Hit 'n Runs

The chemo sessions wore him down,
He so despised the sterile smells,
The chatter, beeps, and flimsy gown,
And then those plain disgusting gels.

But no more thoughts of days gone by,
Of chances lost, of things begun,
And multitud'nous reasons why
Some of those things just won't get done.

No, none of that. He closed his eyes,
And saw with utmost clarity
The very light that clarifies
The meaning of reality.

Deceased, 12-20-88

She wore a smile of gratitude,

And softly blinked to see just how

Her crazy life had been renewed,

Was tumor-free for eight years now.

Her loving husband, bratty child,

A recent job promotion, and

Their town home fashionably styled,

All came together just as planned.

She left her car to cross the street,

When, BANG BANG BANG - no time to dive,

Her body hit the cold concrete,

And sprang the rest of her alive.

Deceased, 8-13-94

Returning from the library,
He tried to navigate his thoughts
From English and Geography
To complicated scatter plots.

He'd battled cancer as a child,
And thought that was his hardest time,
Until that college kid went wild,
And shot him in a tragic crime.

Disease and wounds had left him strong,
And strong he was in times of strife,
But then, that night, something went wrong:
A drunken driver took his life.

Deceased, 11-6-08.

I am amongst you even as
I breathe, and wince, and laugh, and cry;
I've been with you from evermore.
Deceased, mm-dd-yy.