Ramadhan
Here we are once again
With dried-up eyes and muted hearts
Our heads lowered (in manner of respect)
For this is the month for the people…
‘the people’
You are a hope, a grace,
A wisp of air in the burning suffocation
A drop of rain for those who deny Him
A surge of memory for those who forget
And every time you appear is a gust of
Morning breeze, comforting but too brief
The rekindled flame so hasty to leave
Like a scornful lover who’s denied love
My arms aren’t wide enough to embrace you
Nor are they clamped cold by my side to spite you...
A repaired sail battered in storms
You return me to the choppy ground
Hardly brand new, but worthy of another round
And sadly, this is true…
For fear, will there be you on the other end
Will there be me wavering, fearing the transcend
For now, give me time, my treasured
To enjoy every single moment
This flash encounter till its very last
To find Him,
To correct my past
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