Friday, August 22, 2008

How I Met Him

For Allah guides whom He will to a path that is straight. Holy Qu'ran (2:213)

Was it chance, or meant to be? I passed
so many doors without a second look
within, not dreaming I'd come home at last

where angels stand above the world and cast
their shadows as an angler casts his hook,
to catch by chance or meant-to-be. I passed

beneath, not looking up. I held on fast
to solid earth, ignoring how I shook
within, not dreaming I'd come home at last.

My sailcloth soul, my heart-of-cedar mast
were tossed and torn by tempest and chinook
and saved, by chance or meant-to-be. I passed

to harbor, there to shelter from the blast
and draw pure water from the gentle brook
within, not dreaming I'd come home at last.

Allah guides whom He will. Radiant and vast,
His countenance outshone the sky. I took
my chance. My chance, or meant-to-be? I passed
within, not dreaming. I'd come home at last.


Collection available! Knocking from Inside

4 comments:

Linda Jacobs said...

"My sailcloth soul, my heart-of-cedar mast"

Wow, oh, wow! I love the way you changed the puncutation in the repeated lines!

Granny Smith said...

Linda has mentioned exactly the things that I had meant to comment on - favorably, of course. I think the strict form brings out the true beauity of this poem.

b said...

This just so beautiful! Thank you.

b

rick said...

Yes, I agree with b. You have such a way with words, such skill, and ideas to match.