Tasbih

A Muslim pilgrim prays on a rocky hill called the Mountain of Mercy, on the Plain of Arafat near Mecca, Saudi Arabia, Thursday, Nov. 26, 2009. (AP Photo/Hassan Ammar)

the tasbih
were made
by Naimah;
they sit
like Sunday shoes
too beautiful
to wear;
like a favorite scarf
for
mosque
only.
striking colors
and curious textures
unfamiliar to
the simplicity
of touch.
strung,
each bead,
with purpose
and love;
i have not fully
accepted
their gifting…
rather i reserve them
for a finer duty
somehow
and move through
my fingers
my old pedestrian
beads
that have seen
tears
and heard
my voices
in the silence
that surrounds
the seeker
in
her
quest.

©Linda Tauhid
17 Ramadan

Ramadan: Day 17, 1437

Ramadan

is doing

it’s work…

the birds

are singing–

they are not

under

obligation…

the sun burns

giving silent

nourishment,

praising;

the full moon shines

into

the solstice

of summer.

the poets write;

hunger has turned them

inward

and opened doors;

they paint souls-scapes

of capsulized enlightenment.

Ramadan is a gift

to all humanity.

it lives in the hearts

of those

who know,

and it weaves its

trancendant strands

upon the unknowing

hearts

as well.
Linda Tauhid

©6/22/16

Reflections on a Ramadan Night

you

don’t know

from

how far

back

i

am…

my

maiden voyage

was long ago

in a

qualified

city

where people

thought

and learned

with

adjacent

citadels

established

for such.

I walked

the paths

and side streets

that brought

me here…

writing

on

a Ramadan night…

silently

rejoicing in life

and the pursuit

of faith

and the happiness

it brings…

pursuing returns

that accrue

in spiritual

rewards

and savoring

aloneness

as well

as company;

as i keep

with grace

and space

and knowing

on earth

there is

no place

that can

confine

the limitless

notion

of

Love.
©Linda Tauhid

6/7/16