A Stolen Glance

13

A poem submitted to IGIC by guest writer Anonymous.

Note: This poem is an accumulation of various accounts that the author has encountered, based off pure observation. The author has chosen to provide the ideal way forward from such a predicament.

A Stolen Glance

Anonymous

A stolen glance,
A flicker of the eyes,
A gaze upheld
When better it is to be blind.

The innocent gaze then sown as an evil seed,
Its crooked roots twisting and turning,
Fixating itself into the heart of the beholder…

The tortuous roots give rise to wicked flower,
And thorns that make the heart shudder,
And yet…
She is still beautified in his eyes…

He is captivated, enthralled, frozen stiff,
Like a boy teetering at the edge of a cliff,
Only a sheer drop in front of him,
The crashing waves curling, reaching towards him.

Reality becomes blurred yet alluring,
The great Deceiver paints him a distorted picture:
She is dazzling, blindingly enchanting,
And his eyes refuse to turn away from her.

Then shaytan sparks a fire unbeknownst to the boy,
She speaks to him and he jumps for joy.
Little does he know that his heart is becoming like a sun-scorched forest,
A heart bereft of thirst-quenching taqwa that gives life to the heart –
He is like that forest, only waiting to get burnt.

They steal the occasional conversation, making him madly yearn for more;
He becomes mesmerised by her,
And she  –well … he doesn’t know.

The shy glances become a full-blown gaze,
A tiny whisper in his heart pleads him to look away.
But he cannot, the arrows have weakened his heart,
The taqwa built up during Ramadhan seems light-years away.

He finds excuses to send her mail,
Upon desires his heart has set sail.
And to him a reply she always does send,
Funny stories, silly plans, “What did you do over the weekend?”

He is spellbound, infatuated,
Lured and ambushed by the throngs of desires, fixated.
He hurriedly looks away when he finds himself turning,
She being the orientation of his unlawful pining.

She is naturally shy and of a modest manner,
Dulcet with a doe-eyed demeanour.
She wore the hijab and he sported a slight beard
Appealing to him was her character more than her figure.
Or maybe it was shaytan just luring him deeper?

He hated himself for paving the path he now treaded,
Overpowered by an unyielding fever, he now withered.
He wished her to be his lawfully wedded,
Wishing safety from Allah’s wrath which he feared.
Overtaken by this fervour, he spent long nights in prayer,
Crying and beseeching so that she may be decreed as his beloved.

He could not bear it anymore
Many nights did he toss and turn in sorrow.
Tears rolling down his cheeks he did implore:
“O Allah bring us together in a manner that is pleasing to You,
Or my Lord help me to let this go.
I do not want to follow the footsteps of shaytan anymore.”

He wanted to end this misery
So that he could invoke his Lord with sincerity.
So he made his mind up and sent her a letter:

“What I am doing is wrong and Allah’s punishment for both of us I fear,
I want to stop this and I want to ask you about something very dear:
A big decision which makes two people end up far or near.”

And to himself he made it clear,
Away from his sins he needed to steer.
If she said yes, then to Allah belongs all Praise, the One who Sees and Hears
He would not talk to her until their parents’ permission made it clear,
And until the event which would make them lawful to each other.

But if she said no, then Alhamdulillah would he still utter.

He yearned for the days that had long gone past,
Sense of ease and peace and the joyous breaking of fast,
He longed to feel that sweetness of eman,
Envied even by the kings and khans.

The reply came and she said –no.
The boy exclaimed: “What was I thinking?
Shaytaan was taking me for a ride all along!
To an evil end and a pit of angry fire into which sinners will be thrown headlong!”

Weeks turned into months and almost a year had passed by.
Thoughts of her still refused to leave his mind
Until Ramadhan, the beloved friend, came by.
And slowly his remembrance turned genuinely to Allah, the Most Kind.

Alas, in all those hours wasted thinking about her,
He wished he could have sown his seeds for the Hereafter.
But Allah, the Majestic, and full of Power,
Tells His servants, “Do not despair,
The sins of those repentant I’ll make disappear.”

With his mind at ease and his Salah more sweet,
He strove to remember Allah in open and in discreet.
He battled with himself to lower his gaze,
Wishing to eradicate the dark spots in his heart and put taqwa in its place,

His actions he made for his Lord alone,
Seeking the countenance of Allah,
Lord of the Magnificent Throne!

Truly it is Allah who guides from darkness to light,
It is Allah who Provides without slight,
And it is Allah who truly Loves you the most.
Whose Countenance we seek, of the utmost delight.