Age of Jahiliyah

A blog of wide and varied interest, including Islam, Muslims, Poetry, Art and much more.

Grief Was Between Us by Ibn Arabi

The ringnecked dove cooed.

A sad man yearned,


by the echo of her longing.

At the sound of her desire,

eyes welled,

sudden as underground springs


She mourned her

only one. I responded.

Loss is the loss

of your one and only.

I called back a cry

but grief was between us.

I revealed myself.

She stayed hidden.

I felt love’s sting

on the sands of Alij

white tents along the slopes,

the large-of-eyes,

gaze languid,

glances fatal,

eyelids sheathes

of swords that glisten.

I choked back tears

from what was hurting me,

hiding my love from the blame-monger,

acting well.

Until the crow cawed

time to leave, time for separation

and exposed the love runs wild

of a man who grieves.

The riders reached, cutting

the nose-rings of their camels,

red roans beneath the saddle,

moaning, yearning.

Before my eye

I saw the cords of fated death,

as they loosened the reins

and clinched the strap of the saddle.

In the fever of love,

separation kills.

Finding her

would ease the burning.

No one blames me

wanting her.

I love her

beauty wherever she turns.

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