If every slit of a heartstring,
Sin and pain lead me to this moment.
That each ounce of evil that tormented my soul would consequence to this occurrence, here, now.
Kneeling before my Lord.
Then I would happily go back,
and endure them again.
I would reach out to the knives that penetrated the firmness of my back
as a mother would reach for her child.
I would inhale the sweet aroma of pain,
as a fasting man inhales the fragrance of sustenance.
I would go back again, and again.
Journeying through the road of decapitated emotions,
if they lead me back to this….
By Ali R Ilyas
Regretful are we, that we cannot touch the deceased
At ease, our hearts would be, if this were so.
Though, she has past, forever lives on the love she left.
For she had a heart, that would shut out none.
Gone, is the warmth that touched us all.
But in Heaven, she lays, sending peace upon us all.
For, we didn’t just have one Mum, we had two.
So when she passed, we didn’t lose one person, we lost two.
By Ali Ilyas
[In memmory of my late grandmother, 19_ _ – 2010]
From God we come, to Him, we shall return.
Sometimes I find hard to breathe.
Sometimes I find it hard to see.
I can’t cope,
Until I feel God.
Next to me.
Sitting here, at the office desk longing to be free, starring at the map and over analysing what I’d like to see, where I’d like to be.
Running down past palm trees, the sun kissing me as my hands caress the sand trickling back to the beach, as it longs to be absorbed back into the earth.
How I long to be absorbed back into the earth, to be a part of its majestic beauty, free to roam in the wind.
Sinless, the devils whispers no longer influence me. I no longer have an ear, as I no longer need to hear the words that try to influence me, as I am free.
I’m deaf, so the people won’t lie to me, I’m blind but can still see the freedom of a beautiful destiny.
Where the heats not to hot, and the breeze not to cold, where I can grow old…..within the depths of a dessert so wise so humble.
Awakening to a rumble of papers, and telephone calls. Still sat at the desk a mental trap created for you and me, whilst the rich and the ‘go getters’ grasp our destiny.
A destiny to be free, to roam the earth that was created for you and me.
But we are stuck in a concrete wall, so the vision of palm trees can’t be seen.
Forced instead to a desk, and told that this will help us make a nice comfortable bed.
Instead, we are just stuck in a cycle, whilst our destinies spiral.
I guess God only helps those who help themselves.
So unless we grasp what we want, what we need, what truly makes us happy.
We will be stuck at an office desk still longing to be free, starring at the map and over analysing what we’d like to see and where we’d like to be.
By Ali Ilyas