Gulistan or Bustan

the one who speaks to your soul
you ignore
you came of your own accord
the one who sees you as light
you slight 
you came here by birthright

these guides hide behind
as the sun 
peeks through clouds
as hearts lack recognition 
of roses in their very garden
Gulistan or Bustan
Junaidi or Bistami
every nation has a Saadi;
the nightingale of Shirazi
a Jami or Rumi
what does it matter
when their utterances
are one 
no former or latter 

learn from
the Persians 
who bowed to their poets
raised them as prophetess 
as saviors and sages 
flocked to tombs 
to be perfumed
in rose gardens 

contempt and skepticism
you hold for causes and isms 
poets who breathe empathy
remind us of reality 
their heart’s sing
a heavenly melody 
you listen discreetly
assumingely a stranger
yet her words speak volumes
to hearts who seek 
the wine of Divine
through words sublime 
the time is nigh
to hang poetry high 
in mosques and temples
where once upon a time
idols reigned 
when Okaz brought fame
to tribes and nations
now what has become
of Arabs estranged  
from the language 
of love that runs in 
their blood 

Wine of Shiraz

poetic being

do not hasten to express

allow emotion to ferment

at times repress

to compoud the effect

in the cellar of your heart

the aged wine of Shiraz

compares not

with the Chardonnay of


then seek permission

from the soul

to pour as Saqi

your wine in words

to the guests

of your Divaan

What Would I Know

That Ancient Tree

On our ancestral estate

Beneath it’s roots

Great treasures lay

I would sit by your side

As a young child

You became a silent witness

As Shahid and Mashud

To my heart’s facade

Shedding tears

of separation

For my future master

I knew even then

Of master and disciple

Without a teacher

who taught me these lessons

Who brought me to Hu

Being taught the wird

As I sat in solitude

And transcribed my words

In mystical metaphors

Speaking of Ayyaz

and the land of Shiraz

Who taught this to me

What would I know

Was it you

I would sit with your friends

towering evergreens

Shading the famed veranda

Alone with the Alone

I would sit

on cane chairs and cotton cushions

Maids offering exotic fruits

and butter biscuits

pomegranates the fruit of mystics

Wine forbidden for this young soul

Yet she desired to drink more

Underage as a determined femme sage

But what would I know

Gardeners running to and fro

Ambassador cars and foreign delegations

A common scene in the presence

Of this royal tree

of ancient wisdom

Remotely in silence

I continued to sit

Until the ink of my heart began to stream

I sat and observed my thoughts

In order to take heed of

Idris Shah’s wisdom

who planted the seed

I would write

After moments in silence

To allow Divine Tajjali to traverse through

From heart to pen

On pages of old

by words turned to gold

During those days

Where you became my gaze

And I yours

Like a grandmother

Overseeing my affairs

You watched and taught

Through a language unspoken

I was lead to Khayyam

Upon a dusty shelf

The room I slept in

Housed his works

Like forbidden imagery

I dusted the pages

Glaring at Persian delights

What would this young soul know

Of the truth of red wine

The secret of lovers

I dared to ask for more

What would I know

As I turned the pages

Khayyam pierced into my eyes

Infecting my soul

With a rare Sheraz

Rubayyat I sought

In awe of poetry

As a young spirit

What would I know

I decided for the life of my life

That I would drink eternally

And pen my heart openly

That same summer

Of starry nights and rainy days

Where the winds of monsoons

Would moan in pain

I received your blessings

And composed like the ancients

Of Persians and Sumarians

Of Rabia and Mirabai

Of Hashimites and Bakhtites

They opened my heart


A spiritual surgery

Something was deposited

My memory recalls

But what would I know

This happened not once or twice

But thrice and more

While asleep and awake

Sealing my heart with

golden threads and silver brocade

a  honey dew love for ahl al bayt

But what would I know

The Journey Has Begun

Two rivers merge as one

in the presence of the sun

where two equals one

the sum of one is none

is she the future me

a sign of how to Be

is she the key to my

forgotten ancestry

we wonder with

sheer curiosity

as the crescent arrives

within certainty

moon of muharram

I bow to thee

verily we are Hussaini

she marks the awaited destiny

of asserting progeny

of a Makkan Badawi

commissioned to Mali

to marry a Senegali

a scholar a mystic

a Hussaini statistic

Sukina’s young spirit

trained in his presence

of noble eminence

on travels and sermons

over Saharan sands

and Tuareg lands

lessons on demand

Sukina a soul mistress

light work her business

eloquence granted

from Masters of Grace

her message beyond

color and race

she arrives by command

to a Fatimi base

designed to efface

women of grace

guides of inner space

by a Zainabi embrace

to the select and elect

I’m here to double check

to perfect and object

light absence of them

we outright reject

come one

come all

to the rivers of Fatima

Lee Khamsatun

Utfi Beha Harral Waba’il


Al Mustafa wal Murtaza

Wab’naa Huma

wal Fatima

How Words Pursued Me

I await eagerly for intensity

in its explicit language

to rip through all forms of sobriety

slowly and subtly

a tease of seductive ishq

where veils are gently removed

layer u[pon layer

your words have

ensnared me

pursued me

seduced me

captivated me

enslaved me

A Soul Contract is Due

Greetings dear friend of the spirit
This message is heart to heart
I have a mission and you crossed my path
I am carrying a burden
A soul contract is due
My promise to this soul who soars the seen and unseen realm
This promise long overdue
But gestation is a stage
Necessary to birth
A midwife arrived saying she was sent from Fatima
I am
to assist in this birth
To assist in this mission
we shall dispel ignorance
with my talent
Us seas apart
yet mission One
You in the West
Me in the East
vision one
Let’s birth together
while Mary and Fatima rejoice
Rumi oversees our work
his promise in tact
You my daughter
Worry not!
you two are only vessels
Think not it’s you
rather we are sending light upon light
in this labor of love
for the love of all humanity
We see you both fit
Now come forth and carry out the work
While we assist!
Abundance is our promise
The heaves bear witness
Poverty exists not
A lover is never poor
She is rich
wearing robes of silk
Her being perfumes the world
With Amber and Frankinsece
This is honor
believe in our promises
We are caring for you
now is the time
The world awaits
let’s dispel the darkness
through words from
A lover’s well.



When your presence has been lifted

Whilst you are amongst men

And you are placed in seclusion

by inevitable forces

You are forced to keep aloof

All contact broken;

near dear and friends of the Way

a mighty cave where all seems dark.






Howling winds

Faint whispers

Despairing thoughts


This niche beholds a magic lantern

Withholding immense light

Light for your soul

Mysteries for the heart

The beloved retreated

To the cave of Light;


For he was called,

‘The chosen one’

An invitation from the Lord of the heavens

To receive the greatest of all of Trusts

Now cherish your seclusion.


A blessing

Divine mercy

Select souls must retreat

From time to time

To gather

Recollect, receive

And prepare to transmit;

The Sacred Trust.


Be at peace in the cave

For this was never meant to last forever.

Poetic Healers

What’s your treatment for the sick?

A dash of this or that?

How about paralysis?

No Thank You.

Our treatment; poetry

Healing hearts

Poetic Healers


Curing the blind

Detoxifying bodily waste

A full blown purge

Our medication?


Preparing, testing

Samples distributed

From the lab of infinity

To the absolute sick

They drink

We observe, analyze and speculate

Re administer upon the need

Patient cured

Treatment; successful.

Sorrow the Visitor

Sorrow the Visitor


Poetry thrives on sorrow

Sorrow knocks at the door

Of the poet’s heart

It comes without invitation

Stays as an old guest

And leaves without permission

Sorrow ignites the secret fountain

As a flame ignites a dynamite

Come again my sweet friend

Come back to me so I may see.