Tapestry of Life

And if anguish is what provides inspiration, let it be

No further and no clearer the whole truth you will see

If you pull at the threads at the raw edges of your life

Is that not a kind of practice that encourages your strife?

To feel sorry for ourselves, why do we do incline?

I often ponder on the collective attitude of our time

What we are so preoccupied with what is yours and mine

And yet cannot imagine ourselves in a life more fine

With some remorse I can admit we may have lost our way

The soil hasn’t touched our skin since that fateful day

From the rumination that mixed water and pure clay

And temperance inspired from the guidance of Light’s ray

Humility, nobility, unparadoxical from the origin

Skeptical and incredulous amidst our human flourishing

We wait for logic to explain our overabundance of strive

Yet fail to sit amongst the very things that give us life

And so with unguarded imprecision our lives are spun

With flimsy threads of varying origin and tone

and as quickly as the days roll on a pattern does emerge

That represents best what we might call our ‘internal world’

And really this is quite telling, this tapestry of life

For the weaving never ceases and the spindles never bare

And yet we hardly find the time to step back and assess

What desperate picture our life is trying to express 

• Imaan A.

[inspired by the cosmological And characteristic beauty of Persian rugs through its representation of our inner world. This poem speaks to the realisation that in the search to find our place in this world, it is actually the ordinary and small moments that hold our lives together. Meaning-formation is dependant on the practice of true self-reflection and an understanding of our divine origins.]

Think of you

I wake up to the sound of birdsong, and I think of you.

I get dressed in a room of my own, and I think of you.

I do my morning ablutions, and I think of you.

I make my breakfast, something fresh, and I think of you.

I head out and in my commute I sit and think of you.

I hold a book and yet I’m lost in my thoughts of you. 

That I am here and you are not- I have such thoughts of you. 

You don’t know me, but I know you, and still I think of you 

I walk in peace down every street and I think of you.

No threat of drones or falling bombs- nothing to hold us to.

And hear another newsman say ‘there’s nothing we can do’.

Except witness and self-proclaim that we do think of you.

I sit and drink my coffee cold, and I think of you.

I smile an accidental smile before my thought of you.

Conflicted as to whether such a smile could be true. 

As after all, how could a smile exist alongside you?

I labour over my bright desk, and I think of you

I walk a lap around the quad, and I think of you. 

I go to pray and in my prayers, I sit and pray for you 

And then reflect on all that was and all that will be true.

Whether you stay or flee this hell we’ve much to learn from you.

I’m sorry that it was your end that made us start anew.

You have shown us what such profound humanity could do.

If ever we did more than simply sit and think of you.

• Imaan A.

[An ode describing day to day reflections after witnessing almost 2 years of genocide. Expressed through a reflection on the privileged and peaceful routines of our lives at Oxford compared with the lives of those currently tormented and besieged in Gaza, Palestine]

On the sweetness of faith

The greatest source of comfort to me

Is in the sweet embrace of faith

Is in the moments when my soul feels free

Is in the remembrance of His name

Is the trust that all is meant to be

And what is for me will not miss

Is in the sailing of a sullen sea

And the significance of the test

How can I explain the ecstasy 

Of feeling Him so near to me

Such that my tear fill’d eyes can be

Proof that my heart is overwhelmed

And the sweetness of His love for me

Is so much sweeter than honey

Such that no love compares to Thee

Except the love You have for me

Sad that these moments are so few

And far between I must wait long

Never because You’ve gone away

But because it was I who moved

Distracted and deluded so 

By this world and all it’s charms

In pursuit of empty praise

Your love for me was all I craved

• Imaan A.

[A poem inspired by the form and terminologies often used within Persian poetry written by women. An adage to the timeless concept of Love in its greatest and most powerful form, via The Originator of Love. Inspired by the divine name ‘Al Wadud’, and the peace and comfort found in relinquishing all matters to Him.]