HAIKU NOODLES: Gaza

*
Sometimes I kill ants.
How then dare I ask my God
why innocents die?
*

I confess. If there's a lot of them, I might wash them away with water, or spray them with a pesticide, if they happen to be on "my" territory. Sometimes I'll just be sitting there, and one little ant will come trundling along, going about its own business, and I'll squash it with my finger. It's so easy. It's so insignificant.

They say God made us in His image. I hope He's nothing like us.

DEAR ME: Life is ..

I remember this day, although I can't remember now who the bereaved colleague was. Feeling some of his pain, and going home to find those two letters in the mail, one for my mother, and one for us all.

Life is a young boy dying
and his friend
who can't cry,
and who won't leave the office
in case he does,
and who won't cry
until he is too drunk tonight
to hold it back.

It is opening a letter
and finding that your friend
died.
Three months ago.
And her daughter
could not bear to tell you
till last week.

It is opening another letter
and being invited to a wedding.
And seeing that the nikah
is on your niece's birthday.
And trying to recapture where you were
and what you felt
on the day that she was born.

(written on 17 March 1997, Bahrain)

DEAR ME: How dangerous to love ..

This is a poem I wrote about a decade ago, the day I heard the news that my nephew Sameer had been killed in a motorcycle accident. I found it in my papers and wasn't sure if I wanted to share it, but after the recent events in Bombay, I thought there may be someone out there who needs to hear these words.

How dangerous to love
to fill your heart with hope
to invest in dreams
to care
to share precious moments
and create happy memories.
How dangerous to gamble with joy
that sorrow can snatch away,
when death, that one surety of life,
can take in one swift move
the hopes the dreams the moments -
and all one is left with
is the love and the memories,

and the fear that one cannot forgive
the Hand that moved
against the one you loved.

I cannot hope to understand
so how can I explain?
I know only that life is here and now
and so is death
and their balance follows no law we know.

With one Hand He gives us life.
With the same, He takes it away.
This Birth is Mine, perhaps He says.
This Death is Mine, perhaps He says.
Between the first wail
and the last breath,
is My gift to you,
and your gift to Me.
Live it well:
love, hope, care, share, create.

I dreamed Him once (and this is true)
and He told me:

There is a Hereafter.

Perhaps it was an answer
to a question I haven't asked yet.
We can ask Him for time and for love
and for mercy and strength.
But we cannot ask Him: Why?

So I still cannot explain,
and I still do not understand the answer.
But I know that He does,
and I can take comfort in this.

Infinity is everywhere
Before the first breath, beyond its ceasing,
Before the seed, beyond the sealing,
is a secret arc we may not know,
till we gather our gifts and
step forward into His reality.

HAIKU NOODLE: fresh from my freshly-shaved head.

This just came to me in a blink, as I was pottering through my blog, tidying up old posts. I caught a glimpse of a picture I'd posted (see label "gardens") and ..

What is a graveyard
but just another garden
nurturing new life?

Sometimes I think that, whether or not it is true (there's only one way to find out if it is - but I'm not ready to die just yet), it's a good thing to believe in life after death. Of course, many of the world's religions, mine included (I'm a Muslim, in case you're wondering) believe that our death from this world we know, is not the end. But I am beginning to think, given the state of the world today, that it might be a good idea to believe in reincarnation. How else will we get ourselves to take responsibility for the terrible things we do to this planet and to ourselves?

Perhaps we need to give ourselves these fears: that what goes around, comes around - that the mess we leave behind today will be there abundantly for us to struggle through as the children we'd be reborn as - that the lessons we take the time to learn here, will be the bonus points that give us a head start in our next game - and that, in the end, it will be okay to die.

DEAR ME: "Every day that I live ..

Death is something I think about, almost every day. Not in a morbid way, at least I don't think so. But I'm very aware of it, very aware - and yet I never come up with any real answers about it. Here's something I wrote back in 1993 about it. Mulling through some answers, I end with just another question.

Every day that I live
I am more alive
and closer to death.

Every day that I live
I have more left to do
and less time left.

Every day that I live I die a little
and every thought of death
brings more life to every moment of living.

Accepting life is not enough.
Accepting death is all there is.

Between life and death is a lifetime.
Between living and dying is a moment.

And when I die, will I have lived?

(written on Nov 12, 1993)

I wrote this after reading a wonderful book "Knots" by R.D. Laing, which explores contradictions.