Lost Message

Deep beneath the sand, encoded messages were lost. The cost of which was our own soul. And now that’s lost too.

Hidden deep within this tangible flesh and bones a stranger I am…

To my own self

And the mirror reflects a face that is not my own,

Flesh sheltering me deep inside these atoms made of light; trapped in space and time, eyes trying to decode the message.

They left me a message!!

And maybe someone stole it, hid it deep beneath the sand,

A universe I am, held deep inside of me!

I create! And they wanted me to know. Create my own reality eyes interpreting the light, sound resonating.

But somehow I can not see inside of me!

Inside of this flesh made of atoms of light

And the mirror is a liar! That person is not me!

I am lost, lost in the message deep beneath the sand. I am,

The daughter of the builders the secret they left within me, inside these atoms made of light, but the message got lost and now I can no longer truly see….interpretations of the light through my eyes I create my reality, my world, my universe.

The message hidden; deep beneath the sand.

In these atoms made of light.

Hanifah Abdul Khaleeq

Peripheral Vision

Old ladies in doors watching, while criminals break the law

Selling bags to the pheens snort the powder through a straw.

The smell of cat urine while the kittens dodge cars

Three drunken women fighting drank that fire from the bars

No stars tonight 5 girls jumping rope

Across the street that house got traffic it’s obvious they selling dope

They got no hope for the future and Obama’s on the front page.

Little girls in mini skirts treating the streets like a stage.

Cars riding fast and the windows are tinted

The driver’s eyes are red so low they look squinted

Little boys throwing rocks, lost daddies smoking rocks

Old heads with joints and forties young bols hollering at shorties

Trash blowing past my steps; blunt wrappers and Papi platters

Home Girls and Chumpies, old men that stay grumpy

Two teenage girls walking but one looks like a man

A heart broken mother trying her best to understand.

Father’s coming home from work, and I can smell the fried chicken,

The sound of splashing water stained from the dirty kitchen.

But the Pine Sol lingered, children playing Jerry Springer

Old ladies gossiping stay pointing they finger

Fallen tears that have since dried, con artist tryna slide

Everyday this what I see, the minute I go outside….

Keep the Faith? What Do They Know?

They ask so many questions but never asked the right ones.

Judge mothers for losing faith when they’re losing their sons.

They told me to pray but my tongue has gotten parched and they only wanna march when their babies see the dark.

No brotherly love here, those times are gone and ancient.

They tell me to keep the faith, but how long should I be patient?

What do they know?

They’ve never walked in my shoes, tell me the rules but can’t fathom why I carry a bruise.

And I’m supposed to believe there’s a world worst than this?

Supposed to take heed and ignore the serpent’s hiss?

They gotta know it aint that simple cuz bills can’t be paid with prayers

and just because you did it don’t mean our situations compare. It isn’t fair,

But that’s life and they wanna tell me how to live it,

my love they tell me how to give it

but aint got none left to spare.

Not when all I see are the jinn in their eyes,

the disguise they wear and the grins that imply,

That somehow you better cuz you made it out clean,

but never thought about your sister she far off her deen

And I don’t know what to tell her when she worst off than me, don’t know the ayat to recite, getting no sleep at night.

I’m wondering if she made it home, from late nights on the streets.

Try to tell her to keep the faith but that’s something her son can’t eat.

Shit what do they know? I listened to what they said,

but they stuck on the fact that she took the khimar off her head!

They don’t know her story just like they don’t know mine,

but they claim to know it all and it seems like their inclined,

to speak so fast and they think about it later.

Tell me to keep the faith and soon things will get greater.

And all I can think is “easier said than done” when I been keeping faith for years but the clouds blocking the sun.

And trust me I’m not looking for instant satisfaction, I don’t expect to get blessings without putting in action.

But the fractions ain’t adding up, the math is all wrong,

but I’m not the teacher just a student trying to fit where I belong.

Stronger than I used to be but its slowly wearing thin, and I don’t wanna seem like I’m just giving in.

But what do they know? Why are they so quick to point the finger? It just makes the pain linger.

Makes the hurt consume and infuses, what happened to 70 excuses??

But I only have one, seems like I’m running the same pace, running in place

Just tryna keep the faith…

                                                 

Possibility

Life in this world; four walls, three-dimensional. Soaked in sorrow and pain seems like the rain is against us. No touches from God this smoky mirror telling me untruths and extraordinary exaggerations. They told me I told a lie when I said it was possibility. The idea. Morphed and broken down to fit in between these walls. The box we call illusion. And when I close my eyes I can see the light travel, I board…in the back while the chimney smoke clouds my vision. My dreams unseen, unheard, untouched. But they said it was a lie! If they could see the possibility. Never mind the ink stained books, the crosses, the rugs. Kneeling on knees in this 3 dimensional cage where the birds speak but not to us. The trees they caress the wind and whisper their secrets but not to us. In between these four walls I must break free, in the world of possibility! You call it your heaven or paradise where everything you never imagined is…Being. The idea takes form! I know, I’ve told no lies when I was sucked back in the box. When my eyes opened and the feel of my tangible flesh became apparent, apparently they aren’t seeing! They aren’t hearing my words. Mind and spirit tainted from the smoky chimney, telling lies and using permanent ink to scar the spirit, same ink in those books. But I saw, I saw the world above this hell Im trapped in. The fiery worlds of God, and His creation…connected…One. And the trees there are loving, kind, and we exchange life from my spirit to her and her spirit to me. All in one breathe, One. But here on this 3^rd rock; 3 dimensional they tell me I don’t know God. How audacious? How incomplete we must be. Can he not see that he is me? I am him, and he is her…connected. And you busy yourself with fear and manipulation while the illusion grows thicker, we have refused to clear the smoke. You then have stricken me, rendered me a victim lost, and nonbelieving but all the while it was you! It was you who disbelieved in the possibility. The idea. Unconsciously you gave in, trying to pull me back in the box with you so yes I ran…ran into the light and I traveled. To the fiery worlds of God and He knew me there. We were together in that place that I shall return to, where the birds they speak to us, and the trees tell me their secrets. The wind loves me and caresses me. No lies, no deceit. Life in this world; four walls, three-dimensional. The big bang! In the world of possibility, the idea.

Hanifah Abdul Khaleeq

Theft

                                                      

I used to know love, a while back when I was younger. When my heart had this hunger, and now I can’t say. Trying hard to remember the day; when the masked men broke in, tried stealing her treasure, spilled her onto the pavement next to crack vials and broken needles. Small children play, and little feet tatter all over. And now, I’m older…and the feeling is numb. Trying to find my heart in the middle of this slum, and I vaguely hear her whispers but the gun shots are too loud, my ego is too proud and the mask men still linger. Somewhere in the shadows, covering the truth. I’m somewhere lost in my youth, and now I don’t know me

I used to know love, and I would hop, skip and giggle. Red flushed cheeks when the boys would chase me now the cops chase the boys, and no one is left to embrace me. Tell me about the past, when my heart was pure…untainted, and free. Tell me about me! And then I can know love and see her, touch her gently and be sweet. No longer know defeat to the men in the mask, save her from the hands of the unforgiving streets.

I used to know love, it was hidden between the breast of a mother and the little baby’s cheek. I saw it a while back, hidden in the pain of my father’s feet. It was in his drops of sweat. Inside my grandmother’s macaroni. Hidden in my uncle’s sandwich between the cheese and bologna. I knew her, had her in my grasp. And I just want to know me again, somewhere between the high grass. I knew love once, I kept her here with me, on the top and to the left, but was a victim of theft. They stole her away while the lilacs were blooming in the magnetism of the moon on a cool day in June. And they just left her, left her bleeding in the streets where the prostitutes walk, where the houses are crumbling and the children are dying. Left her in a place that fathers don’t go, cops don’t show and everyone is oblivious.

I used to know her…I used to know love.

Hanifah Abdul Khaleeq