The Broken Arrow
My Lord is there across the field,
My body takes the physical form of a bow,
It is my Prophet that draws the bowstring,
As he holds my spirit as an arrow
Between his thumb and index finger.
Lo, how beautiful I would fly to my Lord,
But I am overcome by my ego
And my flight is turning ugly!
Thus you found me, my master,
Lying on the ground,
A broken arrow.
In need of your Love
And your Mercy.
Recycling Love. Yesterday, my nephew was practicing archery at my house. He was taking a break when he noticed a broken arrow on the table. He asked me if I can repair it, and I said no. There is a hairline crack running through the shaft that is beyond my limited understanding to remedy. Then he inquired if he could smash it with a hammer. Kids... I remember being just as strangely destructive in my younger days.
I said no. The arrow has sentimental value, for it is the first one that I made with help from Enda and Pak Din, my archery-mad friends. And the arrow served me well when it was whole, and even upon being irretrievably damaged, I was able to recycle the notch and arrow head for two other arrows that had lost their parts.
The Broken Arrow. I am utterly convinced of the perfection of Islam, in the words of the Book of the Universe, known as the Holy Quran, manifested in the Sunnah (traditions) of Muhammad Habibullah (saws), known as the walking, living embodiment of the holy book.
And I am also utterly convinced of my woeful neglect and sin. And how I allow my ego and nafs (base desires) to gain ascendancy over me, until I find in my life, across this archery range, many, many broken arrows... a testimony of my own broken promises to God Almighty and to myself, of my many broken breaths wasted in pursuit of worldly, temporary gratification.
But God the Most Compassionate and Merciful... through the ministration of His Beloved Muhammad (saws)... He does not leave me there. God picks me up in my moment of greatest despair, He studies the hairline cracks running through my soul and attends to my smallest errors.
Through our Prophet (saws), God has never forsaken me...
Not while there is still any sinew in my mortal coil
To release my spirit-arrow from Muhammad the Beloved (saws)
To God the all-loving One.
|Archers of Malaysia and others... in Amman, Jordan, 2011. Including my late brother|
Arwah Saiful Bahri bin Abdul Khalid (sitting 2nd row, 2nd from the right)
You understand, sunshine?
wa min Allah at-taufiq
Hate has no place in Islam
Love will show the Way