A Passion of the Last Revelation and Faith

The times when I first used words to speak, talk, and prattle

Were not the same experiences where I used them in a poem battle

Writing came easy to me, so did speach and rhyming,

So I aggregated them together to form long sentences until I couldn't think, leading to my whining

But my mother corrected me: "That's a line of a poem

And not something to be upset over, especially here at home."

And that was the day I discovered poetry

 

I no longer used my rhymes for the sake of pleasure,

But placed them in each line at the end which was how I discovered my treasure

I thought this was the beauty of all things,

But no, it had yet to be considered my queens and kings

For a while, I only stuck with poems whose rhymes were ended

Until I discovered free-verse and others, I knew my knowledge extended

As I wrote it all on paper though,

It was a mere paragraphed essay and was embarassing to show

When I compared my poems to others in school,

I became ashamed because I was such a fool

None of my poems were that descriptive nor artsy nor mind-blowing

Or about nature or about wild-life and can never be easy flowing

This was not poetry, but a hopeless tragedy

 

There was a time where poetry eventually came

And related to my heart and religion, but in no way the same

Later I realized I didn't need those passions

I didn't need them because I had my fashions

All day everyday I get asked what I wear on my head when I'm outdoors

To me it's a pain-- to answer every time as if it were some chores

I must show that I have modesty and not swagger on about,

Display my benevolence and amiability without a doubt

This was the moment that I was waiting for--

To write something charming, about opening a door

The door which symbolizes my faith, my soul

Who I am, who I worship, my headscarf, myself as a whole

And I wrote and recited long stanzas in a contest

Competing against twenty others made me have confidence, to do my best

All I thought of was educating people about my identity,

At least one of them would understand out of all the two-hundred fifty

I didn't win-- maybe it was difficult to comprehend and relate to

But I didn't care, as long as they gained some knowledge that grew

As long as they knew what was true about my faith and me

 

I wasn't necessarily in depths of despair

But knew that I had something else to share

Even though that was a long time ago,

It impacted me to study Islam more so

Praying five times and reading the Qur'an

Brings me more joy than showing hair to a man

Then it struck me so much as to bring me tears

I didn't need poetry when I had fears

Fear for my God, fear for His punishment,

And fear for my humiliation on the Day of Judgment

This is explained on the last Revelation,

Having beautiful phrases that should influence an entire nation

Its melody fully cleanses myself

So it's hard to bare just placing it in my shelf

It is a different kind of poetry-- one that posses tranquility and calmness,

A significant, unique, anti-derivative that helps attain self-righteousness

The true meaning of poetry is hidden in this Book,

And the all-superior source will be sure to give another look

I know it's not my own piece, but my faith is real close

Poetry is on passion, my passion is my faith, so that's how it goes

Verily, it will have a great effect-- like feeling relieved and being free

This poem is about: 
Me
My community

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741