"Emptiness" (Poetry + Commentary)

How is everyone doing? I hope you’re all in the best of imaan (faith) insha’Allah. It’s another piece of poetry this week. This is one of my personal favourites – it’s called Emptiness. Enjoy, insha’Allah.

Emptiness

If there's anything worse than feeling angry or saddened, it's feeling nothing at all.

it's like searching for something that isn't yet there.
like trying to divide from zero.
Improbable. No, impossible.

How I'd rather crave fate to spiral downwards then to stay static for so long.
They say the Dunya is showing signs of aging; ending when time slows and grinds to a near-halt.
And yet I feel it won't move at all, like an unmovable rock.
Colour, sight, sound, has all become nothing but denotation, background, mise-en-scene.
Words become white noise without meaning.

Have I really did the unthinkable and sit in front of a fence, slap-bang in the middle of Iman and Kufr?
No, let me rephrase that.
Have I really done the unthinkable and stand on the edge of the universe about to dive into Ehsaan?
Even my emptiness cannot do this without prior awareness and yet nothing appears to be happening.

Wars wage and blood is shed over petty feuds and yet I become desensitised.
I must find sense in myself, and solace before even attempting to fathom other people, other ideologies, CIVILISATION.
A rusting bronze, a selfish chain of memories. Cultivation.

I'm not even raging, for raging ravens lead a path of destruction before climaxing into a ball of fire and profiling kamikaze into the earth.
Everything appears too blurred and too stationary for me to even react anymore.

The body doesn't want to move, except in prayer, and yet the body is encased in a bubble, impenetrable from the whims and folly of the outside.
Yet the mind is constant in movement; driven to extortion.
Solace. Solace. Solace. Pre-emptive strikes are useless, I must react with precision yet I fear I will lose focus as soon as the world arises.
Solitary, mind, body, soul; all alike in struggle. Night is the only conductor for this state. I await my fate.

The search for pillars soon became vain; they were poisoned with the world's antidotes and their foundations shattered as soon as my hand was extended.
I strive not to be a burden for pillars surrounding me lest they trip and fall at my aura.
Perhaps piety requires the need for solitary, maybe this is why he spent so many hours in that mountain, hidden away in that cave.
Oh how I crave land to be so reflecting and dormant in spirit and yet cower in silence at the world.
Should there ever be a pillar I come across, I pray that it be made of titanium, if He ever willed me to deserve such a pillar.
But for now, emptiness takes over the body, mind and spirit. This is nothing like Black.
I require no blood, or any requital to others.

I just want Him to extend His hand, and unwind the Dunya again.
An ultimatum most desired.

Saqib Ali Rashid

Commentary

One of the most impacting pieces of poetry in my life so far, I wrote this on the 17^th of May, 2009, with some tiny redrafting completed just now. It was about 2am, and the title and theme of this poem, Emptiness, is essentially a culmination of the mixed feelings I was going through in the past few weeks prior to writing this poem.

My iman in general was pretty weak, to the point that my obligatory duties of a Muslim such as Salah were feeling ritualistic – robotic would be the word, without value or meaning. Alhamdulillah, I’ve moved beyond that phase a long time ago, but it was a dangerous time for me – I was feeling depressed, lonely and kinda helpless in the phase of life I was going through. So this poem is really the result of a need to make sense of myself and my life.

The feeling of wanting the world to ‘move’ was a desire to meet some sort of struggle, or conflict, to test my faith and make me remember Allah (swt) more. In fact, reading through this again has reminded me to work on my character, as I’m far from reaching the desired state of Iman I want. If there’s anything I dislike about this poem, it’s the excessive use of the passive voice. This was before I learned about stylistics at university and how the passive voice is rigid and unmoving. It sucks, basically. Maybe this needs a redraft!

Finally... is it ironic that I wrote this poem, being sincere in the emotion in these verses and then being woken to the sounds of mourning and screaming from the family. My uncle had committed suicide in the early hours of that morning, after Fajr (morning prayer). Subhan’Allah, that was only 3 or 4 hours after I finished this poem! It was one of the most traumatising periods to date in my life for me and my family, and a huge wake-up call too.

If you’re reading this and come from Muxlim.com, or just know me through MSN or Facebook et al, I should let you know that I’ve deleted my Muxlim and Facebook accounts, as well as spring-cleaning my MSN contact list. This is for a number of reasons: firstly, the second semester of university has started and I want no distractions as I study (insha’Allah I’ll be writing about my uni experiences so far, give me a couple of weeks). Secondly, the internet is a phenomenal tool. But for me, I realise how it was ruining my character, and making me lose sabr (patience). Sorry, but when you see so much stupidity from some people, you forget your manners. I’ll be inactive on that front for a few months, but I’ll be back, insha’Allah. Or not. Who knows?

Jazak’Allahu Khairun for reading, give feedback, comment!