Dunya...(For Sister Yasmeen)

The Ground is put where it's supposed to be

The dirt is always under your feet

It holds stubbornly to what wants to be free

It can drown you in waves and make you enslaved

The Ground will hide you in the folds of partitions

woven with desire and contrition

But the ground, it is not you cradle, nor your stable

So grasp surely your hammer and whetstone

Your soul is to be forged and honed,

Loosen the ties of your boots and

Do not let your toes turn into roots

Rise up to the air

Live and love on adamant wings

Rise up to the air

Open your heart and breathe

An Answer for Langston

Langston, let me tell you
What happens,

When It bears a weight
That It cannot take,

Of beaten kings,
and broken wings.

It rails,
And it roils,
Like thunderstorms and dragon's coils.

It goes to ground
But doesn't tire,

It just loads another round,

And prepares to fire...

Spoon... (mushy love poem)

At night -
When it is most Still
In that Space
Between asleep and awake
After a day of orbiting
Around and away from each other

We are finally brought to conjunction
Pulled together by a force
That even gravity envies

So I draw her in to me
Her back nestles to my chest,
I wrap her in my arms
And breathe into her neck

As Our legs entwine
Like oak trees and mistletoe vines
While in the twilight of a worn out day
Just before a new one
Bursts forth bearing a bright Dawn -
I feel myself drifting
Freely...

To the music of our mingled heartbeats

And I smile to myself from the
Middle of my soul,
For having found Love
In the middle of Darkness

When before I had searched so hard for
But could never really find
Even in the Light of Day...




© Taj Ashaheed 8/4/2013  &  3/21/2017