Saturday, July 30, 2011

In the Meadow of Angels, beside the Forest of Time - PROSE OF RAMADHAN PART 2

In the Meadow of Angels, beside the Forest of Time (The Ramadhan Verses #2)
I was walking through
The Meadow of Angels
Near the leafy edge
Of the Forest of the Time,
While above me, I could
See Angels of Time
Hurrying about and
Working overtime,
Gerrymandering the
Tick-tock of the Clock
To suit the management
Of the world by the Prophet
And His Brethren

Finally I came to rest here,
With you, my beloved,
Beneath the shade of a tree,
Which stood
Tallest and mightiest
In the Forest of the Time.

I asked you, beloved,
“What tree is this
Beneath whose shady
Eaves we are taking

And this was your reply,
“Of all the trees in the Forest of the Time,
It is the mighty Ramadhan which is the tallest,
Sprouting a leafy canopy whose shelter
Goes further than any other
Month of the Year.”

Then you grinned
Your infectious grin,
And asked me,
“Will YOU be a good boy this Ramadhan?”
To which all I can say was,
“I will try to be.”

RAMADHAN. The day after tomorrow is the 1st day in the holy month of Ramadhan, in whose daybreak a billion odd Muslims will begin their fasting until sunset. But today I am already feeling a murmuring in my heart. The morning downpour an indication to my ever seeking eye, that God’s grace is once again extending its most fullest to mankind, coming so close to Ramadhan.
This is my Mak Ndak. One of my most admired persons alive. She is 80 but still bright as  an  apple. Mikhail is a little wary of her because of her wisdom and willingness to rebuke him. And that is good.
THE FABRIC OF HUMANITY. My Auntie, Mak Ndak is 80 years old. But this year she is escaping us to stay with her beloved granddaughter, Analisa, although Alanisa herself is not born in my family. It is the way of the world that sometimes our uncle is not actually related to our parents, our sister is not born from our father or mother, our brother is of a different religion, our auntie of a differing race and our nephew has absolutely no blood ties with us at all. This gerrymandering of human relations is a reflection of the Divine Love that binds us all in the fabric of humanity. The fabric is of many colours and hues, which makes it pleasing to our One Beloved Creator. But have one tear and it starts to look misused and care-worn. It is our job, sunshine, with our thread and needle, to sew up the tears and patch up the holes in the cloth of mankind. We want to look good before God, don’t we?
With a thread and needle kit called Love,
we stitch back the tears and scars that is
defacing the Fabric of Humanity.

A NEW PROSE IS KNOCKING ON THE DOOR. This morning was a quiet morning and I didn’t write much. But later a close cousin called me. She was one of those cousins of mine who was nearer to my late mother’s age. So I guess it is inevitable that my mind drifted to my late mum. There is a gentle prose knocking on the door of my soul, and I am on the way now to open the door and let the prose in. Once she is in, I shall embrace her with my entire being and I shall share with you the sweetness of the meeting, the prose and her meaning.

God bless all months of the year, God bless Ramadhan the Blessed, God bless all mummies, and God bless all those people who entered into our lives through different wombs and kins, and yet have graced our existence by their priceless company.

Wa min Allah at Taufiq.

No comments: