Clear

Clear
by Sukaina Juma

31 October 2011

She is clear.

Untainted and searingly clear,
dangerously beautiful.

Magnetic.
Compelling.
Attirant.

She's been shown how to change cellularly
to crystal.

Ruby, emerald, sapphire.
Brilliant white light.
Fiery.

Clear.

All the fractures of her being,
dissipate.

She reclaims
her smoothness.

She pursues
clarity.

With the determination of the lionness that she is.

The past is repelled,
it can no longer cling.

The future is forgotten.
She has no future.

She may not really be the pivotal
person in her own life.
She may still be
the onlooker, the bystander.

But at least she is clear.

This may not be her best piece of poetry to date.

But at least, she is clear.
Clean.
Untainted.
Unhooked.

She's made mistakes.
Some of them for the first time.
Others she chose to revisit;
so as to remember.

Some niggling things,
she clutches onto after having
attempted to
release.

Clear them, dear one.
Become clear of them.
They do not cease to exist sans toi.
You do not cease to exist sans eux.

Thou thriveth when thou art clear.

Am I not the most Clear?
And the most Mystical?
Am I not the Truth?
And the Unfathomable?

You want to be close to Me.
This I know. This thou knowest.

I am embedded in your living soul.
Yet you are still sensing distance.

Clear thyself, little one.

Canst Thou not do that for thyself?

I can, said she.
But how?

There is no how.
Say Yes.
Say I am clear.
Be clear.
Say "be" and it is.

Thou, my little gem,
shalt get murky
and smoky
frequently.

That is the effect of living on the physical plane.
It is not undesirable, it just is.

You just need to dust and shake yourself off again.

You plead to me in the dark,
curled up on the prayer mat,
the earthen place of prostration,
muddied with your tears:

"O Lord, make me as you like!
Ali was always as you liked,
as was Muhammad.
Make me like them,
Or at least make me as you like!
I beg thee, remove from me my
flaws, my desires, my frailty.
Let me become the highest version
of myself, not the low and base
creature I am now."

Little one,
You are as I like.
Dear one,
thou art as I Love!

I told thee this before.
Hast thou forgotten so quickly?
My answer withstands
the vicissitudes
of time.

You always have been as I like,
every single moment of unskilfulness.
Every single imperfect action and thought,
situation and relationship.

And guess what, dear?
Thou shalt always be as I like.

For thy essence is clear, pure, loving, healing.
Ever searching your Truth.

You are as I like.
You are as I Love.

You are loved.
Accept it.
Truly accept it in that
closed up heart o' thine.

Clear your heart from anything
that indicates otherwise.

Open it up to receive
from thy Lord.

Thou art now ready to receive more.

Remind thyself.
I can only shine
in true form through thee;
only when thou art clear.

Clear thyself,
little one.

It is easy for thee.

Clear.

"And when My servants ask you,
concerning Me 
indeed I am near. 
I respond to the invocation of the supplicant
when she calls upon Me. 
So let them respond to Me
and believe in Me 
that they may be guided."

She is clear.

Sacrosanct

Sacrosanct
by Sukaina Juma
19 October 2011



 

I sit under this loyal tree o' mine,
Gazing at the azure sky that beams at me with benefaction.

Today I focus on the ladybug who decided
my heart was soft and open enough
to be trusted.
She ventures her tiny feet upon
my calloused fingers.

One full moon ago here I lay,
nursing the hurt I felt as a result
of a letter written to me in ire
by a rejected suitor.

The hurt was more
because I had to decline his interest,
than it was to do with those harsh
words of little consequence.

Sitting here, my bare feet on the grass,
I thought of the boy
who wrote one hysterically funny note,
and then chose not to respond
to my witty repartee.

This young laddie from the Midlands
encouraged me to release
and transmute into your roots,
the layers of bitterness and resentment
for all they've ever said or done.

And many full moons afore,
I found myself here, in the cold
and the velvety darkness,
humming devoted prayers
from a holy book
for the eternal peace of the brother of my beloved,
who had drastically departed from this existence.

Leaving behind exquisite memories,
a grieving wife,
a life yet to be born,
a lazy, good-for-nothing cat,
and a vibrancy I still pine to experience.

And afore that?
What else didst thou witness, o loyal companion o' mine?

My back, bent and trembling,
my eyes continually leaking
those forbidden tears
for a myth, an unfathomable sphinx,
a Soul so beautiful,
so cold,
so harsh,
so cerebral,
so heartless.

Impervious
to the the very dregs of my soul,
to the very last pearls of myself,
for which I dove into the hidden chasms,
delved into the deepest recesses,
and offered them as bribes;
everything I had of value,

I gave to him.

Sacrosanct

He intoxicated
the untouched nymph within,
paralysed her.
Artemis stood still in fear of all that was possible
- it couldn't really be this easy, could it?
Could she allow herself
to be joyful,
to feel loved,
to belong?

Sacrosanct

He made her aware of all that she lacked,
of her naivete
that couldn't understand his intense
attention,
which then flickered out,
and sought out another
to ignite;
whilst she deliberated.

Transfixed.
 
He held her transfixed.

Just as Izrael transfixes
the soul he is charged
with destroying,
at the moment of
reckoning.

O humble Izrael,
at least thou bringest a sweet smelling flower
to those whose innocent hearts
lead them to shame
and regret.

There is still some mercy, some absolution
when thou breaketh apart
all fabricated realities,
as thou teareth apart all carefully woven illusion
into slivers and shreds,
as thou cracketh open the hardened shell
o' erected barriers,
to bring forth the
Ascension,
overdue and catalysmic,
to reveal that magnificent
Essence of Spirit,
and reveal it unto itself.

Sacrosanct

In my folly,
I declined my right to a solitary rose,
and chose to remain a solitary reaper
of that which I had sown,
in the moment and even afore
my present incarnation.

I shunned a marriage enfolded
in His compassion and mercy.

Sacrosanct

Merging, healing,
mutual and tender,
a third bloom,
imbuing the cosmos with
the delicate scent
of
ultimate Union.

T'was too mundane an occurrence for me.

Love was forbidden.
She could not allow herself to partake of it.

Her imagined strength
lay in her solitary existence.

Quelle erreur!

This ordinary romance could not compare to
the intensely possessive,
jealous,
vengeful love affair
of self-abuse and unfathomable disconnect
I had co-created with my dark paramour,
who ravaged me from the very core of my being,
chewed me up and spit me out,
who had carefully wiped blank any remnant spark o' life
behind these eyes o' mine,
flung me into a chasmic void,
filled with those oft-mentioned scorpions and beasts of horror.


Whimpering, bedraggled, supine
with bleeding wrists.

The empty, sunken eye sockets
saw nothing.

Empty hours and days,
spent underneath a sun that couldn't
warm that miserable, shrunken and unused appendage,
my nebulous heart.

Some say I luxuriated in this.

I concur,
and I also beg to differ.


Sacrosanct

She had nothing to offer him.

She saw herself from afar;
she experienced herself from within,
and she knew that he could not love this...

Thing.

A bare husk of a girl,
clutching
onto anything that would bring her
back
to living her life
instead of existing it.

Sacrosanct

He woke me up to myself.

Against my will and my reasoning,
he set my soul, my entire Being,

a b l a z e.

My lips remembered how to smile
and they gently whispered his name
into the receptive night sky,
sharing my unexpected fortune with
the myriad points
through which Thy Light shines through.

My eyes beamed ether and rose quartz
unto anyone who came under my
catalytic and doe-eyed gaze.

I embodied Love.


His love? Thy love?
'Tis all but one, n'est-ce pas?

I discovered a heart, my heart.
Pulsating.
The fluttering wings of
an essential, core missing piece of my Being
that finally answered my call and made its way

H o m e.


Click.

The pieces fit.
An almost-perfect fit.

Wholeness,
peace,
fullness,
merging,
melding,
fusion,
expansion,
containment.

Home.

I came home,
to him.

As for he, I cannot say...
What part I played in this cosmic game,
Thou keepeth it hidden still.

T'was solely me who chose this
Awakening,
the unfurling of
my hedgehog heart.

T'was solely me who
needed to grow,
to devote,
to love in a manner that
begets description.

To love indiscriminately,
Infinitely.

I chose to experience the abandonment,
the rejection by a first love,
a mere mortal,
a humble creature
lovingly fashioned and chosen for me
by Thee,

so as to
Understand.

It is Thou who matters, not him.

Never him.
Never any of them.

But it is him I worshipped, not Thou.

He has no control over his faith in Thee,
nor over his next breath.

He could not force himself to feel
that which he did not,
just as I could not force myself to not feel
that which I did.

Thou nurtured me before any of this
existed.

How does one forget this simple truth?

Surely Thou hast forgiven me for this idolatry by now?

Sacrosanct

O carefully guarded heart o' mine,
It now wants to be seen.
It wants to shine His love
unselfishly, unguardedly,
expansively.

O Lover, love Thyself,
O Healer, heal Thyself.

Sacrosanct

Nothing is sacred anymore.

All that was
is now done and dusted,
irrelevant,
forever archived in the Mythology, Fantasy and
Harsh Learnings sections
of my personal Akashic records.

All evidence is deleted,
all fondness, attraction,
trust, hope and
connection...
Retracted.
Voided.
Dissolved.

Wisps.

Wisps of...
Wisps of...

Only wisps.

Did it even happen? I ask myself.
Why should it happen?
To someone like me?
A Nothing.
Untouchable.
Undesirable.
Unlovable.

"You chose to remain unknown.
You accused the world of making you unlovable,
Without removing the
barriers to love you had
erected within yourself.

He, a microcosm of the world,
reflected that which
you thought you were worth.

Detachment,
rejection,
disrespect,
harshness,
cruelty,
disconnect.

And there is no blame,
all is perfect.

Your pain is perfect.
The words inscribed upon this page are perfect.
The lump in your throat,
perfect.

Your remorse, your forgiveness,
your Love,
Divine."

I shall curl underneath your e'er-reaching branches, o tree o' mine,
On some future day.

And perhaps dream of yet another beau,
ponder upon a life of little purpose,
envision pilgrimages to the cloistered tombs,
or gaze one again at the azure,
seeking Him without,
when He is only to be found
within.

Dreaming,
pining, wistful,
obsessed,
killing off
bits of my Essence
for anything that is
out of reach.

For it is all without,
and not within.

For everything else that has the essence
of prosperity and lushness,
of Life.
Of normality,
of the comforting sense of the mundane.
To bring me back to myself to this earthly existence,
And leave alone those
Astral explorations
Of which I am only barely aware.

They say my loneliness is
a construct, or
the result of karmic leaking.

I concur,
and I also beg to differ.

I complain to Thee about my loneliness.

Allow me to merge with Thee,
so I can forget myself,
forget them.

I need to forget him.
Show me how to forget him!

Sanctify my tears.

I weep now,
only for Thee.
I tremble now,
for Thee alone.

My relationship with Thee
is sacrosanct.

Ah, Madame Ladybug flies away.

My heart feels the void
once more.

Once more, I am alone
with Thee
under this tree.

And then, gently, my loneliness dissipates.

Yet another illusion,
up in smoke.

For the one who has gained Thee,
what has she lost?
And for the one who has lost Thee,
what has she gained?

Sacrosanct
Sacrosanct
Sacrosanct

'Tis done.

The Spiritual Guide

The Spiritual Guide

Rumi

The Prophet said to Ali: "O Ali, thou art the Lion of God,

thou art a valiant knight,

But do not rely upon thy courage: come into the shadow

of the Palm-tree of hope.

Come into the shadow (protection) of the Sage whom

none can waylay.

His shadow on the earth is like Mt. Qaf, his spirit is life

the Simurgh that soars aloft.

Though I should sing his praises until the Resurrection,

do not look for any end to them.

The Divine Sun has veiled Himself in Man:

apprehend this mystery, and God knows best

what is the truth.

O Ali, above all works of devotion in the Way is the

shadow of God's servant.

When others seek to save themselves by religious works,

Go thou, take refuge in the shadow of the Sage

against the enemy within thee."

Having been accepted by the Pir, give thyself up to him:

submit, like Moses, to the Authroity of Khizr.

Whatever thy Khizr may do, bear it patiently, lest he say,

"Begone, here we part" [Quran 18:78].

Though he scuttle the boat, be dumb!

Though he kill achild, do not tear thy hair!

God hath describe his hand as His own, for He saith,

"The Hand of God is over their hands" [48:10].

This hand of God slays his disciple, then brings him to everlasting life.

Mathnawi II 2959ff

She Falters, thy Phoenix

I falter,
I fail to trust this as my new truth.

Dost Thou loveth me so much?
Dost Thou Giveth to me such honour,

that which Thou hast bestowed upon
the brilliant sun and
the mystical moon?

The whispering wind,
the gentle mist,
the cleansing rain,
the transmuting fire?

Thou hast honoured me
by picking apart the threads of
my intricate plans.

I fell
I had to fall
I had to feel Your lack
so as to discover You anew
and to recognise You as

Real,
Infinite,
Love.

Not as the facade I had created.

I
  am
       still
             fall
                  ing
and
       I
          know
                   that
the
      earth
               has
                     been

absolved
               from
                       breaking
                                     my

fall.

If I do not acknowledge and

display

the beautiful plumage Thou hast bestowed
upon me,

If I do not shake these wings o' mine to ascend
or spread them around
Your loved ones
to shelter,
nurture,
protect,

Love,

Thou shalt not mind, Thou shalt leave me be

And replace me with another
who shall love Thee and
She shall rise and soar to Thy bidding

whilst I fretfully pluck
at my wasting plumage,
ne'er to be seen,
in shame and regret.

~ Sukaina Juma
15 October 2011

Irretrievable, Lost

Where to has their Spirit flown?
Why does the blankness behind their eyes afrighten me so?

Is it because I placed them above me as my gods?

And now, when I have toppled them and
hacked them to pieces,
in an attempt to excavate their core,
their putrid carcasses remind me of my folly?

I am bereft,
bereft.

I am afeared,
afeared of all those moments
lost into the nothingness.

I desperately seek them out.

I wish to reclaim those precious pearls;
those granules of Time I can now put to better use.

I call out to them, begging You for reprieve.
For redemption.

For a miracle through which I can reclaim
those scattered parts of my Soul,

a spare sliver, an empty husk
of the life-term of any of Your creatures,
to add unto mine,

that which was casually bled in vain.

Unaware,
asleep and entirely void
of God-consciousness.

But Thou Knowest, as doth I

All of that is lost, fore'er more
And that there is infinite wisdom behind this.

The remnants of my being crumble
into the dust that I came from.

I surrender to Thy will.

~ Sukaina Juma
15th October 2011