He alone deserves to be worshiped

______________________________

 

I often utter them loudly:

I do have an identity 

I. Am. A. HUMAN. Being

beyond these labeled 

codes & given numbers 

I. Am. Not. A. Machine. 

Not. A. Robot. Either

I. Am. The. Essence of. You

I am too given birth by a human 

I HAVE A FATHER

A MOTHER 

SIBLINGS & ORIGION 

 

I TOO HAVE A HEART 

FEELINGS

EMOTIONS 

 I am kind 

 I am compassionate 

 I want to love others 

 I can forgive those who did wrong to me 

 

I gently put my hand on my chest

I adore it with a calm caressing touch

My heart can hear the notes of my fingers 

as my they trace each string of my chest 

and love flies!

 

The curved and scribbled lines on my skin

are temporary scratches on the surface only.

They do not reach out the core of my heart

They can not mark IT…

Or infuse hatred for others

 

I remind myself with these comforts

more often now

I instill these in the core of my mind,

In the light, in my caressing heart,

In the glorious beauty of my eyesight. 

* because *

I love my being, my sensational heart.

I love it more & sometimes less. 

Though I doubted my temple in the past,

I placed in it: 

stress, 

anxiety & disobedience.

I’ve hated it, 

slapped it on the face

left red marks & wounds

I unloved it

 

~~~~ AND ~~~~

NOT today

Not anymore. 

For others do not know me 

like I know my heart myself!

 

Though I am not a model, 

I treat myself like a model!

I stand in front of 

my half-cracked mirror

Putting on a caring smile, 

A gentle one perhaps!

Feeding my heart by repeating: 

my skin is the symbols of all identities. 

I belong everywhere 

Relatable to all ESSECNE!

The dirt, the soil of all nations. 

My eyes are two vessels of rich lands

My heart recites the verses of all religions. 

My chest is the harvesting ground of all tribes

on which: 

Love, 

Care, 

Kindness 

Compassion 

Acceptance

Tolerance 

& Forgiveness can be planted!

 

I wash all the given labels now

from my forehead in a warm

I shower them off. 

I want to cut off the code

& replace it with my name.

I want to remove the number 

& replace it with my family name. 

I want to cast off the word refugee

And curve the word Human Being.

 

Welcome in this extensive & wide 

world of Love & Compassion! 

 Go now 

You are free from all confining chains

But as you enter into this new world, 

carry these notes in your loving pouch chest:

Hold your head high, but with humility. 

Let it not fall on your shoulders again. 

 

Install the pavilion of love 

on the grazing landscape of your chest.

Ensconce shelter-less ones,

give them the refuge, they need

under the shadow of your hovel.

 

Let the strong roots of smiles grow

thick & green branches on your face. 

Do not consume hatred, but only love. 

Allow the leaves of love grow thicker. 

Shuffle your resurrected feet with care.

Be careful  there might be ants around. 

Behold a vision that foresees the best in others 

inject them with the essence 

not to only see, but can feel & find out 

the invisibilities that others fail to meet.

 

Don’t judge others based on their status, 

physical appearances 

for every living body is:

A Masjid

A temple 

A church

Hurting a heart is equal to

destroying the houses of God. 

 

Hold a tongue & feed it 

with the dignity and piety 

to utter the truth

Die with piety & pride 

rather than living the life of slavery.

 

Those who are in misuse of power

wont remain in it forever

their wealth shall collapse

their status shall transform.

 

Do not call anyone poor

for poverty recites in those 

who holds judgmental hearts.

Who sees wealth in the forms of

physical existence of materials 

which only now belong to them

but later on to others

For the only space that belongs to you,

shall be a few miters of soil to shelter 

the ashes of your rotting body

the same soil that you walk upon 

its chest with arrogance!

 

Spend more time with these people. 

Sit with in level on the ground. 

Spend more time with them & less 

with those in powerauthority

 

Let not their tyranny mark 

the divine essence of human being in you. 

Only God alone holds the power

 

And when doors of:

Happiness

Satisfaction

Peacefulness 

Open on you

remember to hold a reflection of:  

your cracked skin, 

the dried patches 

on the tops of your toes. 

The freckled & numb legs, 

you once held. 

 

Kneel down only before Him

Raise your hands in humility

Towards the sky & call upon Him

Shed tears if you want for’…

these teardrops are preciouses to Him

like the pearls of mysterious diamonds

Thank Him forgiving you the strength 

To find back yourself 

To love yourself again

For He loves you and

He alone deserves to be worshiped

___________________________________

By: Abdul Samad Haidari 

(05/10/2019  02:14am, 

Jakarta, Indonesia).

 

 

 

 

About samad1986

Abdul Samad Haidari is a poet, writer, teacher and a former freelance journalist, currently residing in Indonesia as a stateless refugee. He is the author of The Red Ribbon He fled his home country at the age of seven and grew up wandering in Pakistan and Iran as a child refugee, and was separated from his family for the majority of his childhood. For two years, at the age of eight and nine, he was forced into child labour in the construction industry in Iran. In contrast, Pakistan offered refugees like him the opportunity to study and work. This education and work experience culminated in Abdul teaching computer studies and English language courses at the Intel Computer Center and Pak Oxford Professionals. After the collapse of the Taliban government, Abdul returned to Afghanistan thinking that the security situation had improved, and that he could take part in the reconstruction of his war-torn country. With this in mind, Abdul served as a freelance journalist and humanitarian aid-worker in areas of the country that remained dangerous to civilians because of the influence of terrorist groups. Abdul served with the Norwegian refugee council (NRC), ActionAid Afghanistan, Daily Outlook Afghanistan group of newspapers, and The Daily Afghanistan Express. As a freelance journalist, Abdul wrote articles and editorials about on-the-ground realities, which were then circulated widely. These had a particular focus on women and children’s rights, corruption, transparency and accountability in government, warlords and terrorist groups’ actions and the systematic persecution of minority groups in both Afghanistan and Pakistan.
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