Endless wonders never cease,
Forever trying to iron this crease;
From my mind, my soul.
Always searching for my own.
Trying to be that which I have never shown
So that I may understand how much I have truly grown.
So in my heart, truly is;
That sense of peace with my life’s lease, never signed but to which I am bound.
In the end I await, hearing and listening for that sound;
For me to enter that space in the ground.
In which I will lie, so that I may at last let out that contented sigh.
Sunrise, glowing anew.
Never has anything ever been so true.
Wake me, open my eyes
For in them does your light shine.
Call me with supernatural words,
In dreams to other worlds.
Hear my words, as they whisp and traverse,
As my the quenching of my thirst,
Slowly fades.
Wake me once more in places of dark,
Till my breathe’s last,
Slowly dissipates.
Then bring me to you at last,
Where my creation beckons with farce,
In the yellow light of dusk.
Dust swirls in the particles of the air like sparks of brown static, shaking the trees, twisting them in dances of chaos. The tarred road lies dry in the wake of the storm’s eye, as if preparing to soak in the life giving liquids after a century of drought. Begging, I thought for the water of life. Gusts of wind throw the scenery left then right in zombified silhouettes. Strange bodies these natural things are, so complicated yet so easy to move in unison.
Rusty siderails on the road stood their lonely vigil. It was reaching evening time, around evening time and the sun was setting into the west. Living in a place like this made you become more of an animal than human. It was primeval being here. Every day was a battle but the strength was building in me with every day. Ten years so far. Ten years more I say.
It’s been ten years since the last bomb fell. Since then the world changed, but in many ways stayed the same. The clique nature of human settlements stayed the same, the same segregation, the same guns and the same war over and over again. But there was more to it, people weren’t as much people any more. They changed physically and mentally.
Some had appeared with harder skin, smaller eyes and sharper teeth. Others had stayed the same but were monsters inside. Some say it was the radiation that changed them, but it was the poverty, the greed and then it was the need for survival. Survival of the fittest, and most mentally infirm.
They say that all you have to do is pay attention, lessons arrive when you are ready. And the next move becomes easier to see. I wish they’d have seen that when signs of the violence began a decade ago. But it’s late for regrets like that. It’s too early for too much hope either.
Soft foot pads shift impatiently in the grass long since cut by blades. A light snarl menacingly hides behind a film of grey grass. A young buck recently separated from its mother light munches on some old shrubs wearily. Its head cocks up in a burst of awareness fuelled by instinct and fear. A twig unnaturally snaps in the growth. It runs.
Four hooves galloping at blinding speed across a stretch of tar and asphalt. Gadoof, Gadoof, Gadoof.
A roar is heard in the distance and then and a gust of air is displaced followed by another. Large canines are bared and muscles are tensed, stretched and worked. Heavier steps thrust body into air, bursting with energy stored from catnaps. Heartrates soar, instinct and reflex take over as the drumbeat of chase echoes through the war deadened landscape.
The buck bolts like an Olympian over an open field of sand, never pausing, cutting through the wind like a blade. Grass is jumped over, broken walls soared over quicker than any man could run. The cat runs faster, its burnt orange and black stripes a contrast in the urban jungle. Growls of frustration and hunger burst into the air, making is disperse as if avoiding the juggernaut breaking through it. Then the playing field changes and becomes far more technical, no long straights to catch its prey. Walls become lower but more unpredictable and the low energy levels coming from the cat’s strong legs drastically decrease.
The panting becomes ever more intense, dried parched throat becomes more and more daunting till it stops and the young buck disappears into the distance.
The resentment in the heart of the beast settles once more and is stored for a time of easier meals, and less energy expense. Mole Rats are becoming less and less appealing. It rests once more, then it catches a sense of something far more appealing then any buck. Man. It has been a long time since it has enjoyed a meal like that. Renewed energy fuelled by hunger and greed takes the scent in and it stalks ever so further toward that scent of deliciousness. Soft growls go unheard satisfactorily to none other than their owner.
Then there’s a bang. The cat stops cautiously as if in knowing what happened. It steps away slowly. There is no predator like man and his gun. It decides Mole Rats aren’t such bad prey after all. The scent of gunpowder is alluring but all too risky.
The buck falls hard, dying instantly.
There is a time and place for this it says. I will have my prey.
Meanwhile, a man called Cassius reloads a .44 rifle and wills the filling of his stomach. It has been a while since he has eaten. He looks around listening for danger and instinctively follows through to the corpse now bleeding.
“Ten years is a bloody long time to live with this kak.” He then radios into the base three kilometres away to his wife. “I’ve got some food. Start a braai. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” . His wife replies “You didn’t call me for the whole day, I was worried. Please hurry back. I’m worried.”
He lifts the buck with all his strength and follows his way to town. His family must eat first. They need to survive these hard times. His stomach rumbles at the thought of that meat. Tired, hungry and determined, he steps a little further toward living another day.
Speak kindly my child,
Child of future and times.
Speak of those whom have wronged with love,
For all that you may have now will never last.
Look to him, upon whom all depends,
For it his hand, from which he lends.
Make with your hands which you care,
For it may not always be there.
Treasure the gold which never appeared so,
For when it is cleansed it may go.
Ask nothing of others to which you never give yourself,
For it is them who’ve picked you up after you fell.
Then look above, smile and touch that heart,
For the greatness that in you is born, not you,
May be all that that will ever last.
Touch of a hand, kiss on the cheek.
Whisperings of sweet nothings, eyes of adoration.
Make me smile, make me happy.
Make me grin, make me silly.
To you I dedicate this, a show of appreciation.
To you I give this, a gift of reciprocation.
Once again, a touch of a hand.
Once more, a pleasing thought.
Send me love, send me flowers.
Send me hope, send me peace.
For a while longer, a touch of a hand.
Whisperings of sweet nothings.
To me, you are no longer nothing.
A starlight in the gloom never shone,
For everyone thought it was forgone.
That starlight in the gloom was never seen,
For everyone forgot it had ever been.
Today I looked for that starlight in the gloom,
And hoped very soon, That I would see it too.
It never came and I fell disappointed,
So I closed my eyes and thought of those anointed.
Who led our pasts, and inspire our present,
And wondered if that was the lesson.
That I seek, or need or even pine,
Then I let past the time.
To see and to feel , perhaps to understand,
What it was to be Man.
So I closed my eyes once more,
Cast my eyes to the shore.
That washed aside and wore,
Then perhaps my soul saw or perhaps not.
That there was a starlight in the gloom,
That I did see soon.
For the darkness that all around us swirled,
Allowed for farsight to be earned.
In patience and strife,
That was the purpose in life.
To work and toil and tumble,
Only to realise after that last fumble.
That we, Man alone are,
Neither how much we suffer or fall, nor how far.
But the grace by which we stand,
And to whom we give our hand.
Tick tock, tick tock goes the clock,
When is it the right time?
Tick tock, tick tock does the clock,
What is it that will be mine?
Knock knock, knock knock,
Who is this I hear?
Knock knock, knock knock,
Why do I still feel this fear?
Drip drip, drip drip,
Falls the droplets of sweat.
Drip drip, drip drip,
How is it my eyes still remain wet?
Slowly, surely, comfortably,
I step on your path,
Dodging, stepping, running, falling,
To reach my home at last.
Breathing, inhaling, exhaling,
And in the end releasing,
Feeling, breaking, healing,
But in the end no more appeasing.
Once again, tick tock goes the clock
Yet another hard place, and a rock,
Won’t somebody give me the key to this lock?
No said he, who above me lives,
Why then, if I did that you would never learn!
But yes said he, who now next to me stands,
Be slow and steady, for here is my hand.
Standing alone, hand in hand.
Toes, feet filled in sand.
Warmth shared, heat given.
With you, I know I’ll never shiver.
First a smile, then a touch.
A hand intertwines, shares so much.
Floating sounds, bouncing waves.
After tonight we’ll never be the same.
Walk with me, hand in hand.
Body, toes and feet filled with sand.
A young man had been to Wednesday Night Class of Quranic Studies.
The Mualim had shared about listening to Allah and obeying Allah through intuition.
The young man couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Does Allah still speak to people through intuition?’
After Lessons, he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message. Several different ones talked about how Allah had led them in different ways and that at the end you’ll know it was Allah(SWT) Who has directed you.
It was about ten o’clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, ‘Allah…If you still speak to people, speak to me. I will listen.
I will do my best to obey.’
As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk.
He shook his head and said out loud, ‘Allah is that you?’ He didn’t get a reply and started on toward home.
But again, the thought, buy a gallon of milk came into his head.
‘Okay, Allah, in case that is you, I will buy the milk.’ It didn’t seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.
As he passed Seventh Street , he again felt the urge, ‘Turn Down that street.’
This is crazy he thought, and drove on past the intersection.
Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street ..
At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh.
Half jokingly, he said out loud, ‘Okay, Allah, I will.’
He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi-commercial area of town. It wasn’t the best but it wasn’t the worst of neighborhoods either. The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed.
Again, he sensed something, ‘Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street.’ The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat..
‘Allah, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid.’ Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk.
Finally, he opened the door, ‘Okay Allah(SWT), if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for something, but if they don’t answer right away, I am out of here.’
He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man’s voice yelled out, ‘Who is it? What do you want?’ Then the door opened before the young man could get away.
The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. He looked like he just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn’t seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep.
‘What is it?’
The young man thrust out the gallon of milk, ‘Here, I brought this to you.’
The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway.
Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.
The man began speaking and half crying, ‘We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn’t have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking Allah(SWT) to show me how to get some milk.’
His wife in the kitchen yelled out, ‘I ask him to send an Angel with some.
Are you an Angel?’
The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put in the man’s hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face.
He knew that Allah (SWT) still answers prayers..
Lightning crashes and paints white spots on my eyes. I look around to let the burn of the flash fade. I notice a trail of blood spots behind me. It’s not far to go I think, only another three hundred meters.
The sky in this massive expanse of desert is beginning to turn grey. Pitter patter. I feel the drops of rain falling onto my scarred hands and face. It rejuvenates my parched skin in this heat. Three years on this journey and it hasn’t ended. I’ve lost so many people close to me, and somehow all I ever wanted was for me to die finally. But it didn’t happen. So I had to live with it. And I lived longer, waiting for that time to come.
The drizzle is becoming more intense. And the pattering is becoming a light drumming as it hits the dry thirsty desert sand. Then a flash, followed by a massive bass reverberation of thunder. More white spots.
I put a hand to my side and feel as the blood slowly gushes out of my side. Damn those bastards, damn those raiders. They killed my father. I took out all of them but he died. I couldn’t save him and I had to bury him in this desert wasteland.
It all started very quickly. Mr. Nobody was walking with me from the warrior settlement when they came. There were five soldiers, each wearing leather breastplates and each carrying short swords. At first we thought them to be a group of robbers but I recognized the armour they wore from the warrior settlement. Assassins.
At first they stood there facing Nobody and I in a line. Then the one in the centre stepped out. This soldier was larger built than his companions and seemed to hold rank between them. He had light blue eyes and had a massive scar on his lower lip. His blonde hair was bleached naturally from the looks. His leather armour had a cut on the left.
I darted a look at Nobody. He was getting angrier by the second. His eyes became narrow slits and a vein began to stand out on his forehead. He then thumbed his sword on his hilt. Looking at him I knew what to do. I had to stand my ground here against these five men.
I drew my sword from the scabbard holding it in the air. Nobody did the same.
“You will pay for what you did to our king.”
Nobody then looked at the leader. “Is that all you can say weakling?” His voice was a growl, like an old dog seasoned by hundreds of pit fights.
The leader looked impassively at Mr. Nobody. “Yes. That is all that needs to be said. You are weak. Now prepare to die.” The leader charged with a scream. His short sword raised high for a powerful attack. Nobody stood his ground then waiting for his attacked. As the attacker came to him he sidestepped and parried the attacker’s blow and sent a thundering kick into his attacker’s kneecap with a bone shattering sound. The attacker let out a scream of pain and went down to his knees. Nobody then plunged his sword into the attacker’s shoulder slicing off his left arm and then sliced off his head. The body flopped helplessly on the sand.
Then pointing a look at the remaining four soldiers, Nobody shouted, “You all want to die as well?!”
They charged. I ran to Nobody’s side getting ready. Before the fight began I knew we were outnumbered and Nobody didn’t have all the strength his body used to have. This was going to be tough.
Two of the attackers came to the right, facing me, and the remaining two went after Nobody. As one of the soldiers tried to strike me with an overhead blow I sidestepped in time observing the movement of his sword, then blocked and parried an attack to my right by the other. I seized the change to kick the left attacker’s shins hard and then blocked another attack by the other soldier, this time the attack was more ferocious and I nearly lost my footing. Quickly looking to my left I saw nobody had been sliced on his arm by the one attacker. I ducked missing being hit by a deadly sideswipe by another soldier, going down I sliced at the back of the Nobody’s right enemy’s knee. Looking to my right again I parried another strike by the damaged shin soldier and sliced at his neck. He fell then and I blocked an attack by the other, holding my sword against his in a lock. I then headbutted him, leaving him incapacitated for a second, and breaking his nose. The attack sprayed blood onto my face and white cloak. I then turned out toward Nobody who was still dispatching his opponents and landed my sword hard onto his left arm. Taking advantage of the previous attack on him I smashed my foot onto his knee spilling blood onto the desert sand. He fell do his knees
Next, the attacker who I incapacitated slashed his sword on my right arm. I cried out in pain. It wasn’t deep enough to make it weak. I let out a scream of rage. Running into him with all the force of my body I managed to break his sword from his hand and then I started pummelling him with my fists, left then right, all attacking his face. My vision was red with rage. By the time I was done with him I realised I forgot about Nobody. I turned around.
His other opponent was downed and dead from the looks, there was a pool of blood seeping from the bottom of his body. His head was turned down and there was a massive wound on his left. Nobody on the other hand was wounded on his right hip, and he looked like he was about to go. His attacked then took him down with a fell swoop. I shouted for him to hear me. The blood was flowing quickly out of him and falling even quicker below him with every attack, and the attacker then blocked and parried all of Nobody’s attacks. And then the soldier performed a savage overhead attack which found home at Nobody’s neck. I ran to him. I was too late. He fell then.
Battle rage took over me completely. Grabbing a fallen soldier’s sword I ran after him. He knew then what was going to happen to him. The soldier braced himself. He wasn’t prepared. First I struck him with an overpowering blow that threw his sword far from him. Then a lightning quick blow to his throat taking him down mercilessly and instantly.
He was still alive when I ran back to him. He was pale then, but he smiled at me. He said something, a prayer. And then he said “Hamza. I’m proud of you, you were every…thing…I…wanted…in…a…son….If you see your mother…Tell her I love her.”
And then his eyes went dead. I closed my eyes.
And then I fell in pain on his dead body. He was dead. And it was abnormal, inconceivable and on so many levels wrong. This was a man whose youth had lasted him years into old age, and whose strength had only ever been used for good. Now he was gone. The tears came then, in long, insistent sobs. Emotions welled up inside me and it all came out, every memory, minute and second of the time spent with this man I’ve come to know and love as my father just burst forth and suddenly I was helpless in all my strength and power earned.
Burying my father was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But I did it, every minute of it. Then I walked, and walked and walked. I hoped that at some point I’d drop and die. But I didn’t. My wounds hadn’t healed and I was dripping blood as I walked. Then something strange happened. I walked for another hour, feeling absolutely nothing inside.
That was an hour ago.
It rains now, and harder. The light drumbeat became a torrent of liquid. My walk became a limp, then the limp became a stumble, and then the effort required to simply stumble was becoming more and more. The world becomes a grey film of noise in this rain. Rain water fills my eyes and soaks me. It was warm. The world was becoming warmer by the second, my eyes are becoming droopier.
I fall hard.
The world is becoming darker now. I look behind me, the red spots of blood are dissolving in the rain water. I try to get up, to try to fight losing control but I cannot. I look up. There’s a figure walking toward me and beyond that a settlement with lights and fire like a beacon for a lost ship. The person is completely unaffected by the rain, I try to look for a face but all I see is mist and fog. And then I see a white cloak, but no face. No face.
And then the world gains ultimate warmth, and I’m happy. And complete darkness.
