New Poem: Poeima

This entry was originally published at RedemptionNow

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.
He effortlessly, but with infinite creativity, brought beauty itself into being.
But more specifically, he spoke beauty itself into being.
He could have thought it, willed it, imagined or gestured or painted or written it.
but he spoke.

Let there be
Let there be
Let there be
And it was good
Let there be
Let there be
Let there be
And it was good
Poetry

Do you see it?

Spring into summer into fall into winter into
Spring into summer into fall into winter into
Spring into summer into fall into winter into
Spring into summer into fall into
The beat, into the rhythm, to the music, to the
Poetry.
Do you see it?

There is alliteration in the
spot where the sea meets the sand of the shore ‘neath the sky on the surface of a sphere that’s sustained by the sun
There is rhyme in the sound of the sea and the wind through the trees, and
similarities in the calling of birds and the laughter of children, it is
Poetry

Do you see it?

There is meter in the pattern of breath:

Day and night, love and loss, birth and death
As each beginning fades into the next and the complexities of life are split into stanzas of time,
cycles that repeat according to the underlying beat
Poetry

Do you see it?

Do you see it? This is the meaning of He created, and
In the same way, we create.
Animals don’t write novels, the rocks beneath our feet do not (necessarily) compose symphonies, but we
We create poetry
in all its different forms.
We wrestle with words
And as we dance to the rhythm of the rhymes we find that inevitably we leave our footprints between the lines.
Do you see it?

If poetry and poet are by nature intertwined
then do you not believe that if we seek between the lines
where the ocean meets the sand then in nature we will find
that the one by whom everything we see was first designed
spoke it into being and in love did leave behind
the key to the Truth of the mystery divine
in the echo of His voice and His footprints ‘tween the lines?

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For Your Consideration

This entry was originally published at RedemptionNow

Al-Watan (click here to view the site in translation) is an Arabic-language “national weekly Arab-American newspaper” published in Washington D.C., San Francisco, Los Angeles, and New York, whose mission is to provide Arab and Muslim Americans “with the most current, valuable, reliable, and informative news on political, economic, social, cultural, and educational issues, which concern the Arab-American community in their relations with the U.S. society at large… through maintaining a positive relationship with the community… coordinating efforts with Arab and Muslim American organizations to promote the achievements of the community as well as empower them through active involvement through political, media, social, and educational sectors.”

Recently, Al-Watan published a series of poems titled, “Yes I am a Terrorist” and, “The Ape,” which was accompanied by an image of President George W. Bush as a howling chimpanzee who is worshiped by some servile and unintelligent, but nameless, Arab leaders. I didn’t actually find “The Ape” to be all that interesting; besides being only mediocre poetry (in my opinion) it was just more empty bush-hating, which, while could certainly be legitimate, was in this case only an outpouring of rather animalistic rage and therefore was nothing new. If you really want to hear it, or something similar, just go to california and ask the first person on the street what they think of our president.

The other poem, however, was different. Stylistically, it is only average writing at best. On the surface, it is easily your average terrorist propaganda. Yet it was still striking in its almost vulnerability, an odd mix of proud violence and equally proud gentleness. I suppose the image that is strongest to me about it is the one that runs through the entire piece without ever being spoken or even implicitly acknowledged: that of a man who is both a Muslim and a terrorist, and also a poet. A suicide bomber seated with pen and paper. This silent image comes close to shattering the stereotypical picture we have of men like Matar, even as his words themselves seem to encourage the type-casting. Take a look:

Yes, I Am A Terrorist
By Ahmad Matar

The West cries in fear
When I make a toy from a matchbox

While they make a gallows of my body
Using my nerves for rope.
The West panics when I announce one day
That they have torn my galabia
While it is they who have urged me to be ashamed of my culture
And to announce my joy and my utmost delight
When they violate me.
The West is sorely grieved when I worship
One God in the stillness of the prayer niche
While from the hair of their coattails and the dirt of their shoes
They knead a thousand idols that they set atop the dung heaps made of the titled ones
So that I become their slave
And perform amongst them
The rituals of flies.
And he, they
Will beat me if I announce my refusal.
If I mention among them the fragrance of flowers and grass
They would crucify me
Accusing me of terrorism!
Admirable are all the actions of the West, and of its tails
As for me, as long as I am related to freedom
Everything I do is considered
Terrorism.
***

They have destroyed my world
Let them reap what they have sown.
If on my lips and in the cells of my blood
The globalization of destruction has borne fruit
Here I say it. I write, I draw it
I imprint it upon the forehead of the West
with my wooden shoe:
Yes, I am a terrorist!
An earthquake has its reasons.
If you understand them
You will understand my reasons.
I shall not carry a pen, but my claws
I shall not hone ideas, but my teeth
I shall never be kind,
Until I see the law of the jungle
And all its adherents
Returning to the jungle.
Yes, I am a terrorist.

From now on, I advise any informer
who follows me barking
To clothe himself with a tank
Because I will smash his head in
If one day he knocks at my door.

There is one line here that causes my heart to sympathize deeply with this man: “The West is sorely grieved when I worship/ One God in the stillness of the prayer niche/ While from the hair of their coattails and the dirt of their shoes/ They knead a thousand idols”.

We, too, have certainly known the peaceful quiet of the prayer niche, have we not? Even more do we understand the value and beauty in meeting in that quiet with the one true God. And do we not know, as well as this man or more, how the culture and materialism of our nation screams at the top of its lungs in an effort to destroy that quiet of the prayer niche? Do we not grieve over the fact that our people create idols, gods, from the dust of their shoes, from things that they can control and create, rather than submitting themselves to a Sovereign Creator God?

Your thoughts?

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so for those of you who know about woot.com, you know how funny their product descriptions can be. this one really made me laugh: its for a bright pink barbie-brand vacuum cleaner.

Put Your Shrimp On The Barbie Vacuum

hello xangaland

Ammunition: Romans 5:1-5

This entry was originally published at Stepping in Faith

“Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this grace in which we stand; and we exult in hope of the glory of God. And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.”

Romans 5:1-5

Oh the blessedness of learning from Christ Himself the glorious Truth of His Gospel! Once again, I find myself as a child at His feet, with nothing to offer and no words to say, for He alone is wise and His words alone are true.

Our great God is a God of hope! Do you know this? I mean really know it? And what a blessed hope we have in Him! For not only do we have a hope that is founded on the blood of Jesus Christ, spilled to cover our sins. Our blessed, glorious hope has its root in the risen Lord Jesus Christ! Our hope is built on our Savior, glorified and radiant, who is even now seated at the right hand of the Father, having claimed absolute victory over sin and death. And can we then give in to despair and cry that it is hopeless? Never! For Jesus Christ sits enthroned in heaven, and my heart will hope in Him forever!

My hope is built on nothing less,
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness,
I dare not trust the sweetest ‘frain,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ Name

On Christ the solid rock I stand!
All other ground is sinking sand
All other ground is sinking sand

When darkness seems to hide His face
I’ll rest in His unchanging grace
In every high and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the vale

On Christ the solid rock I stand!
All other ground is sinking sand
All other ground is sinking sand

His oath, His covenant, His blood
Supports me in the whelming flood
When all around my soul gives way
He then is all my hope and stay!

On Christ the solid rock I stand!
All other ground is sinking sand
All other ground is sinking sand

When He shall come with trumpet sound
O, may I then in Him be found
Dressed in His righteousness alone
Faultless to stand before the throne

On Christ the solid rock I stand!
All other ground is sinking sand
All other ground is sinking sand

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