Moon Rise

MOON RISE 🌙 

In the inky twilight

Of no mans land 

Beneath sullen trees

With lengthening boughs 

Between the descending of the sun

And the rising of the night 

My namesake beat a retreat 

Whilst I, I crept out 

Self pity was ever my shroud

And the thought of death, my relief 

But all was not lost

Whilst I lay beneath those circling trees

For the Evening Star

Woke me from my reverie 

Piercing bright 

Later dimmed by the near moon

Which rose on its side 

Splendidly full

The moon and its glitter

Rolled the World in Silver

Moon rise 

More wondrous than any snow fall

I stepped out from that shade

Stood proud 

Whilst she lay a crown

Upon my head

Who was he that lay sullen?

Well he was gone 

Reliance and True Love

Reliance and true Love.

A father can love his young son because he represents all those chances that he did not take, or all those mistakes that he wishes he never made. 

It is as if the son were a reflection of himself. 

And if the reflection good then he loves him even more, since it vindicates his own self love. 

And if the reflection poor then his love diminishes.

The true name for this is not love, but vanity. 

True love is not vain. 

And for it not to be vain requires autonomy. 

However is it not love to care for, and wish the best for, a dependant?

And yet in order for it to be shown to be true, and not vain, requires that you help that dependant to grow in autonomy. 

Interestingly enough from even before our outset God declared the autonomy of man. HE did so in a speech whereby He informed the angels of the creation of man as a vicegerent, or successor, on the Earth. The implication being that man was from first a free agent. And then He empowered him with the knowledge of words.

Words are abstractions, the very stuff of ideas and imagination. And words were amongst the very first of creations even before the angels. For at the first He created the PEN and commanded it to write. 

And so to show HIS love for man and HIS hope for man, He set him free and empowered him with the greatest of His creations. And then He sent the Messengers to advice; as bringers of glad tidings and as warners of a day of recompense. 

There is no doubt that we are reliant on God, the sustainer, the gracious, but He shows His love for us by emphasising His independence from us. This is a clear fact: that whilst we depend on Him, He is independent of all. 

A father can never achieve that degree of love, precisely because a father can never be truly independent of his son. There will always be a time where the father can envisage the loss of his power, and his dependence. And at that the table turns and the son shows love for his father.

The opposite also holds in respect of a son or daughter for his father or mother. Their necessary dependence precludes any true love in the nature of how GOD choose us and blessed us. 

And that is why the Messenger informed us of the two who would be together on the Day of Decision, and who would be so close as two fingers side by side, both there and in Heaven. And these two are those that love one another, because of God’s grace and bounty, and are independent of one another in a way that family can never be. 

Man Knows

Man knows 

Man knows no poverty greater than that of his soul,

No happiness greater than selfless giving. 

He knows no grief greater than that of disbelief,

No knowledge greater than that of sharing. 

Of all the things that man possesses,

Knowledge, time and things he collects. 

All decrease upon the giving. 

Save only knowledge and charity. 

For these there is increase. 

Shafees 

Song of Hope

Palestine 

Ancient groves of olive trees

Hundred years to bear fruit 

Moments to be bulldozed down 

The tinkle of faraway childhood laughter

Crescendos to breaking china 

Their indomitable spirit smiling higher

When all is lost 

We find ourselves 

In the midst of those with most 

Their smiles giving lies to the grand illusion. 

Far more is less that more itself 

And those with less, they are the best. 

So visit Rafah,

Spend time in Gaza,

And there you'll find our Kings. 

Without a crown,

With scanty clothes,

But with those, I'd give a million for. 

When they're bombed,

Their veils, they tightly shroud about

Their dignity we will never doubt. 

Never lost are those with home,

Even when all that remains,

                                 are those 

Beautifully wrought iron keys. 

Heirlooms of a bygone age 

Where have all the old folk gone?

We do homage them in this song. 

They saw a time 

When Palestine was free

And they lived to pass on that fair tale. 

That Palestine will be free once 'gain. 

Even when all the World and all its people

Forget them, We will not. 

And happiness will be theirs once again

To spread about, and share. 

END

I wanted to write a happy poem about Palestine. And so I googled "what does Palestine mean to Palestinians" and the first page was all Israeli information airbrushing out a millennia of history. 

Well after all it's clear that google lies. 

And this poet hopes that the idea of a Palestine will never die. 

Sweet Dawn

Sweet dawn

Before the rising sun. 

Cool quiet, 

empty of human industry 

Yet

Lively with chirrups

Songs sung in anticipation

Of another day, yet to come.

The devout man woke 

Obligations completed 

The breaking of the sun

Molten omelette, peppered paprika. 

A breaking surf

On a distant land shelf. 

Across a not so blue. 

Dawn fisherman, he casts

the nett of his eyes

far and wide

Expectantly drinking 

The jumping shimmer fish. 

Till the omelette rises

Reversal of time 

And sits atop the horizon

A golden yoke

On the beast of day 

Another beacon of hope 

That sets his thoughts homeward

And he turns his back.

eyes half closed. 

Still full of those silver fish

Dreams his way home,

A home for every dispossessed, 

To pour them out in wooden bowls 

A release

From the crimes he remembers 

And those that he does not yet know

From the relentless noise of industry 

That juggernaut of humankind 

That will soon break even that dream. 

Jerusalem's Feet

Jerusalem's Feet (Poem). 

( a new version of 

http://shafeesthoughts.blogspot.ae/2017/08/if-i-were-palestinian-poem.html?m=1 )

If I were a Palestinan

I wonder how I would cope

With the loss of my land,

My people, my home. 

They say to keep heart 

One must compare

Not with those that have much 

But with those that have less- than- luck

If I were a Palestinian 

I wonder how would I cope 

Would I bear with patience 

The animosity of this thief Na-tion. 

What could stop me from venting my anger 

In self destructive ways?

If I were a Palestinian 

I wonder how I would cope 

When they come 

Knocking on our doors

Stealing our children 

Locking them away

Murdering them in our streets

That the old people might live to mourn 

Would I pick up their planted knives?

Would I believe their disgusting lies?

If you were a Palestinian 

I wonder how you could cope

Would you crumble 

At that very first Israeli missile strike?

How would you cope?

With settler violence

Vindictive and vicious. 

Unchecked by Moses's law. 

If I were a Palestinian.

I know how I would cope. 

The doors of heaven 

Lie not at it's Tenple's gate.   

But at Jerusalem's feet. 

And those they kill 

They are not dead. 

END

(C) Shafeesthoughts 5th August 2018. 

M S BACHELANI 

if I were Palestinian (poem)

If I were Palestinian. (Poem). 

If I were a Palestinan

I wonder how I would cope

With the loss of my land,

My people, my home. 

They say to keep heart 

One must compare

Not with those that have much 

But with those that have less than luck

If I were a Palestinian 

I wonder how would I cope 

Would I bear with patience 

The animosity of this thief Na-tion. 

What could stop me from venting my anger 

In self destructive ways?

If I were a Palestinian 

I wonder how I would cope 

When they come 

Knocking on our doors

Stealing our children 

Locking them away

Murdering them in our streets

That the old people might live to mourn 

Would I pick up their planted knives?

Would I believe their disgusting lies?

If you were a Palestinian 

I wonder how you could cope

Would you crumble 

At that first Israeli missile strike?

How would you cope?

With settler violence

Vindictive and vicious. 

Unchecked by Moses's law. 

If I were a Palestinian.

I know how I would cope. 

The doors of heaven 

Lie at the feet of Jerusalem

Not in it's Temple.  

And those they kill 

They are not dead.