Global Interfaith Peace

Theological Poems: Expecting (in intizar)

“No more signs! Forgive me!
The tree of signs has gotten thicker
with wintery frosts. It is as if
asking for signs is anything but
a sign of infinite doubt, recoiling with a
blow of faith in reappearance, immune to
pseudo-science of signs.
We are not here to verify the obvious or
kneel sheepishly, but to co-participate with
His most exalted mood in the
blessedness of now.

Instead of dying, you invented a new way
to disappear from the earth, a perfect way to
breathe upon us the higher meaning, so we begin
unobtrusively and slowly turn to
transcendental entities, as we journey through
the pile of instants – ‘theo-temporal’ being.

The first time I heard about Mahdi, when I was
too young to read, it felt like a ghost in a dark house.
But, as I grew to learn, like waking in dreams, or hiking a
beautiful mountain, with no fear of falling.

It is dark now. But I am home illuminated
from being in your comfort zone, Occultation.
I am never in a fog! Or alone! To live alone is
meaningless, a believer’s misnomer.
Keep grace: that keeps all hopes going.

Savior! Savior!
Knowledge of you is vast and
complex. So here I am, weaving,
weaving, the sunlight that streams from
Your name, Sahib al-Zaman.
If I could only count the spine of books
on which your name appears and ask
if I too will fall under the spell of words to
the point where I have to create my own.
More or less I am afflicted with the theology of voyeur,
sometimes offering myself up to
hopelessness and despair, like an
invalid who has forgotten how to walk.
Those disturbing disconnections disappear by
the stroke of your genius, revealing glimpses of our
Brilliant Creator.

Notice I have not indulged in the scary game of
Apocalypse! Nor am I moved by earthquakes or
Tsunamis (only nuclear holocaust). My dagger is for
cutting cheese and fruits.
When I utter your name, only good news come to mind, and fear
retreats to oblivion.
I know, I ‘m a traveler passing through the river of time, with the
thoughts of your future embrace powering my canoe.
On the banks of this river there are
no ugly ruins.

I don’t seek deliverance from doom, death, dread, or
angelic visitations. It’s wrong to assume that
we can cure all illnesses. My faith insures me against
illusions, like a sophisticated film spectator who can tell
a good script from a bad one. They are always filming in front of
my home, the air is thick with smoke from
my chimney burning their film reels, enough coat to make the
clouds laugh with rain. He may journey life from afar, but I keep him
good company, under the umbrella of Expectation (Intizar),
liberated spectator!”

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