POEM WITH NO NAME

By

I know

your name

but I will

not tell…

I saw

your picture…

but there’s no more

time

to wait

or to dream

or to take

some drastic

action…

and i

am ok with that.

after all

it’s been decades;

ions in a lover’s years,

with many

detours

and

and choices

in which we

we were never mutually

involved.

yet you

look peaceful

with a light

that must come

from faith

or joy

or gracious

resignation;

or something else

that i may not

understand;

and in that

I may be

your

twin,

separated

at that painful birth

and with you

now

living,

but

drawing

closer

to

that

final

chapter

of the book(s)

that

we

have

written.

Linda Tauhid

©️2/20/24

Maestro Les McCann

By

the maestro

left so quietly

that i almost

missed it.

i am sure there must

have been a seismic shift

or some other

universal phenomenon

to recognize his going

or to celebrate

in the world

he will now

be inhabiting.

if not,

the shift

in my heart

should be enough

for now.

“Trying to make it real

compared to what…”

as the greats leave

one cannot mourn

because what they left behind

is self-sustaining,

above

mortality,

timeless.

so we let them rest

and play their music

and sing their songs

to keep ourselves

believing

and

to soothe

our

souls.

Linda Tauhid

©️2/4/24

Two Moms!

By

A remembrance of Sister Najeebah Jaja

 

I was in attendance when Shamari graduated from high school. It was a warm day, probably in May, and I drove up to Oakland from my residence in Santa Clara.

I met with Sister Najeebah and Shamari and we proceeded to the graduation site which was somewhere in the Oakland hills. Shamari was like any other student, excited for the day and happy of this amazing accomplishment. Of course, Sister Najeebah was also beaming with pride.

Shamari went to the student gathering are and Sister Najeebah remained at the entrance of the venue to watch for her other invitees. I proceeded to the stadium to find hopefully a shady spot to observe the ceremony.

I found a semi-shady spot that I could tolerate and remained there to watch the ceremony. Graduating from high school is a ‘big deal’ for the graduates as well as their friends and families, so it was pleasant to be surrounded by the joy of the attendees on this occasion.

After the ceremony was over, I proceeded to an area where I thought I might find Shamari and his mom. This was before people were playing cell phone tag and locating each other with their devices.

Luckily, we found each other in a gathering area for the graduates. Shamari was happily holding his diploma and celebrating with the other students. Najeebah was there and happy as a proud mom should be.

At one point Shamari looked at us and declared “I have two moms, two moms”! He was excited to have his mom and her good friend standing for him in love and in pride.

At this time, I had already graduated my two sons from high school and they were busy living their lives. I had recently returned from four years of teaching at a university in Kenya and I was trying to find my “sea legs” back on American soil. I’ve never actually found them.

However, I was honored to have a friend like Najeebah, who I would often see when I came home for summers. One time she had a get-together for me and invited some of the sisters. I remember bringing some Masai artifacts that I had acquired in the Kenyan marketplace.

When I moved from California to Houston Sister Najeebah and Shamari came to visit me in the tiny apartment that I was sharing with my son. I remember preparing them a brunch fit for a Queen and her Prince.

My memories of Sister Najeebah are filled with love. I wish her ‘Safe-Home’ and I declare that I am still a “second mom” to Shamari if he ever needs to stake that claim.

Linda Tauhid

©️1/22/24

Houston, Texas

lindatauhid.wordpress.com

Note to Reader:

The most significant fact about this story/narration is that Najeebah’s son Shamari is functionally challenged. This condition can be seen through his speech and mannerisms. I always could see the love and intelligence within Shamari, so these differences became non-existent to me. His mom, an educator, worked hard to obtain for him the best education and “normalized” circumstances so this story is a victory lap for all involved as Shamari is a thriving adult living in a group home scenario with love of friends, family: aunts, uncles and other moms.

Note to Najeebah

By

somehow

i have been trying to dissect

the complexities

of our friendship.

maybe it is unique

in that i don’t usually compare myself

to others

and I am rarely jealous;

i don’t doubt that i

will be tested in this.

but all of that

is over

for us.

you lie

on your deathbed

alone.

I am on the other side

of the country

still struggling in life.

I have no way

of saying “goodbye”

but I do wish you well

and safe-home.

death with its finality

tends to even out

the distractions of life.

it warns the living

in a most stark manner.

so “goodbye” my sister…

you used your strength, intelligence, faith

and energy for good.

you loved

and shared philosophy and wisdom

to anyone who would listen.

may your transition be easy

and may you wake

with those who love;

and those whom

you

love,

and those

who

love

you.

Linda Tauhid

©️1/13/24

Note: I have been informed that Sister Najeebah Jaja (Linda Martin) mother, educator, published writer and dear friend left this life on Saturday 11/13/24. May Allah AWJ grant her Paradise.

Psychedelic Memoir

By

i sat

in that stairwell

nursing

some small

disappointment

that i had conjured

up

to be major.

a missed connection—

a star-crossed

dream of youth,

a minor hurt

that would be outshined

later

by

the real thing.

it was

the time

of openings

as well as closings.

soul covered dances

Aretha howling

bleeding into

the mystical sound

of a recorder,

the voices of

Grace Slick.

and

Marty Balin

surrealistic,

but no cover,

no pillow,

and no place

to rest;

just movement

and change

candles

in Chianti bottles

and Black boys

that wanted sex

i would

deny.

i am weary

and waxing

nostalgic

but,

is there

something

better

in this time

of forgetfulness

and mis-

fortune.

yet a new loneliness

tempered

by

time,

emptiness,

and

choice

has

surrounded

me.

Linda Tauhid

©️11/19/23

“Like”

By

i like you best

when you are sitting

at your Baby Grand,

in Ghana, no less,

playing

into

the silence,

disturbing

the air

with the beauty

that your soul

can see,

feel,

and express.

I like you best

when you are mesmerized

by

your purpose

as it articulates

itself

through

spirit

and talent…

when the wonderful

life

that you

have built

shines

across

the miracle

of cyberspace

and

touches

hearts

and

minds.

Linda Tauhid

©️10/13/23

Morning Devotions

By

this morning

I awoke

needing every bit

of enlightenment and

encouragement that i

could find.

so first I read

the Holy Quran

and a section of this verse stood out:

“Know, then, [O man,] that there is no deity save God, and [while there is yet time,] ask forgive­ness for thy sins/frailties and for [the sins of] all other believing men and women: for God knows all your comings and goings as well as your abiding [at rest].” 47:19

i listened

to Shaykh Bahauddin

from Lefke,

and later

As I was scrolling Facebook

some videos popped up

Minister Farrakhan speaking

to a prison population and telling them:

“You Can Make It”!

Donnie McClurkan and his choir singing

“”After You Do All You Can, Just Stand”.

and I realized that I was in

good hands.

no, not just the algorithms

working in my favor

but the true power

of truth

and divine help

when one

is in need

and the Mercy (Rahma)

of Allah (AWJ)

in every

deed.

Linda Tauhid

©️9/23/23

Desperation

By

the postman

that delivered

my package today

was so ‘fine’

that I wish

I had showered,

washed my hair,

put on make-up

and oiled

my feet.

instead i opened the door

un-showered,

head in sleeping bonnet

and feet in a sorry state.

actually I was expecting a number of

deliveries today

so earlier I taped a note

the door reading: “Knock Loudly”

but generally when i answer

the package is neatly

placed by the door.

so I was unprepared

for such a “treat”

or to be looking

like a disaster

while signing

for a package:

@desperate!

Linda Tauhid

©️9/11/23

https://youtu.be/_gJ1EJKLIG8?si=Hwop9KtCCAK2Mvvf

Home

By

we had to walk up

two flights

of stairs

to reach

the place

that we called

Home.

it was safe

and we had all

that we needed

and my mom

was

the centerpiece,

the force field

of our existence.

she worked,

she cooked,

she cleaned

and dressed us

for weekdays

and Sundays.

in the later years

when I was in college

i could always bring

a friend home

for a night time

Sunday meal

when they were

tired of eating

dorm food.

and Sunday nights

the day’s meal

would be sitting

covered on

the stove.

and I would serve up a plate

for a friend.

my mom would be sleeping

by then;

she was clearly aging

and tired.

and i thought

not much

about my advantages

and blessings.

but

Ma

is years gone

as are two

of my siblings;

and i think of them often

and hope they

are in

the best place;

the place

that

they

deserve,

‘Home’.

©️Linda Tauhid

7/16/23

https://youtu.be/Ug-10cLg9w8