Anonymous Servant

Al- ‘Ala cools fire 

Hasbun Allah.
But who am I to argue about religion?,
When in my hypocrisy,
I just keep drowning.
Save me.
Purify me.
Teach me.

I don’t like it in the water.
Or in the fire.
Let me turn back,
but not to Kabul;
Or let me go forward,
but not to California;
Just to the salama
of the straight path,
If only I would let myself
be guided there.
But I just keep drowning.

Allah makes this fire cool.
This trial a purification.
Dehydration, separation.
I don’t like it in the water.
Or in the fire.
Let me turn back.
Tired, tired, tired.
“Lost in the sauce,”
Allah is enough,
For them, for me,
For us.
Inconvenience, mass displacement,
“I mean, everyone has their problems.”
This story never ends,
until He writes the full stop.

Until then,
If I bring my face back
To the qibla, in the East
The best direction to fall in
Again and again
Keeping returning
Allah can cool the hottest fire.
And snuff out the smallest spark.
And cure the diseases
In my miserable heart.
He is the highest.

Al-Wahid, Al-Ahad
He is the only one
that can draw His servant out.
Out of the fire, out of the grave,
Out of the cold classroom,
Out of the minor discomforts,
Out of the open-air concentration camp.
My lord, Al-’Ala, Subhana
However long I continue drowning,
Or burning,
Allah is enough for me.
Hasbi Allah.

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