The Gaze
There’s a portion of the night
known to be known to the knowers,
and wishful wayfarers
traveling the road to be sober
This a time heaven stills
And Allah extends his gaze
To the Hardened, hollowed out,
And humbled hands raised
This is the passage where dying is living
And living is dying
where the bounty’s brought forth
To bidders for buying
Where Salaam of all sorts
Is written for trying.
And the thought alls lost
Is hidden from minds
The countless broken beggars
Stand gathered in line
For a thread of Rahma
Cast from the sublime
How many bewildered wretched
Stand scattered to climb
The towers of their sin
In an attempt to remind
Their hearts that darkness
Has descended this time
As a passage through which
Allah’s light is further defined
This hour where carpets turn hospital
And surgery is sujood
Where the quiet tap of tasbih
Serves as interludes
For the wailing of the wayward
And dua being diffused
And no matter how deep the depths
Of souls who’ve been abused
These are the moments
Where the pleas of the Mumin
Fail to go refused
And Should you find your self
Having cried out help
Has our habib not stated
Gaze inside my well
Ain’t the prophet of end times
Where we find our wealth
Don’t you see that Allah sees
These tired eyes swell
Ain’t he guaranteed we’ll receive
Whatever is ask for
No matter how many gallons of pain
And truth of the past pours
Or our weak intellects we use
To maneuver the crash course
Can never amount to valleys of mercy
Al Qayyum has had for
Those who beg in the twilight hour
For renewal at Ar-Rahman’s door
And as our life’s hours hourly escape
How are we to take
This life in our lifetime
Endowing with states
That cause the limbs to stir
Allowing it to wake
Our heads to face the kingdom
And bow them to the king
This is the content of courage
No coward could ever claim
Those who stand naked nightly
This lifetime will be showered in his rain
On a day the scrolls will be rolled
Miles upon the plain
Where will not be able to mouth
But our mouths will all explain
What we did with our hours
Hours before the day
If we are imprisoned by prices
Our pride was proud enough to pay
And if Jannah is just beneath moonlight
Shouldn’t we be crowded at the gate
Because if they knew what was distributed to
The outstretched hands of the believers
They would kill sleep itself
Just to stand as a receiver
They would ransom their own eyelids
To be seen by the redeemer
If not for the bloodied feet of Habib
Not a fraction of this is known
This is the outcome of his dua
Being cast into our homes
A millenia of worship wouldn’t pay back
A fraction of his loan
May Allah place barakah in every watery eye
And crackling of bones
That in the pitch of black night rise
In reverence of the master of the throne
الا يالله بنظره
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Tariq Touré is an award winning writer from West Baltimore Maryland. Touré’s poetry and prose has been featured in award winning publications such as, Salon, Washington Post, Al Jazeera, The Nation Magazine and Sapelo Square. Black Seeds, Toure’s debut collection of poetry was the winner of Best Poetry Book of Baltimore in by City Paper Magazine. Touré has been a featured lecturer/performer at Howard University, Princeton University, Georgetown University, Duke among many others. He has been regarded by legendary hip hop artist Black Thought as the Amiri Baraka of our era. Toure is a winner of a Short Film award from the Center for Global Muslim Life for his film Dear Beloved Son. Touré is a recent fellow of Duke University’s program, “Building Bridges: Muslims in America.” He is a graduate of Bowie State and Howard University. He is currently in his 3rd year as a full-time seminary student at Dar Al-Rahma Detroit, a training institute for community servants.
C Islaah Abd’al-Rahim | March 26, 2023
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A reminder benefiits the believer, al hamdu lillaah.