Sunday, July 27, 2014

A Poem For My Mom

My mother, Iffath Hasan, just wrapped up twenty-plus years of teaching Islamic studies in the Chicagoland area so that she and my dad can move to the Bay Area to be closer to my brother and I. Beginning in early 1993 and continuing to just a few weeks ago without interruption, she would travel to countless schools and mosques every week and teach countless students young and old about the mysteries of the Qur'an and how to apply its precepts meaningfully. While I'm happy to know that my parents will be closer to us, I didn't realize until reading the poem below just how much of a loss my mom's absence in Chicago will be for her many students. Read it after the jump:
A Guiding Light   
I was lost and I found you 
I was hopeless and you showed me how to find hope through dua (supplication)
I was weak and you showed me strength through Tahajjud (night prayer)
I was blinded in darkness and you showed me light through seeking knowledge 
I said my loved ones are ailing; you said the cure is in sadaqa (voluntary charity)
I was running off the track and you showed me how to get back on track 
I said my children are in pain you said heal them, protect them through sadaqa 
I came to you crying and you showed me the place to cry was in front of Almighty ALLAH   
I came to you in a panic you said panic makes the calamity worse 
I came to you wounded and you said it was temporary 
I was looking for a shortcut in life and you said find it in the long rakahs of Tahajjud 
I was tangled in this dunya (world) you showed me how to be free   
I said my duas need to be heard, you said dollar-a-day sadaqa or what you can afford -- and neither your sadaqa nor your dua will be rejected by The MOST HIGH  
I was running and you asked me to slow it down 
I would be confused and you said WHY?? 
I had doubts and you provided clarity 
I was hurt and you said I would heal
After 6 days of a marathon I used to stop at your tafsir (exegesis) to breathe -- now where do I go? 
After defeat where do I go? 
When I panic where do I go? 
When I am lost where do I go to? 
When I am wounded where do I go? 
When I need you where do I go? 
This poem is written as a farewell for Iffath Hasan for her relentless service to the community character building, soul searching class for 22 years.
By Nusrat Ahmed, 07/22/2014

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