The Ever Rising Tide

Your anger is an ocean wave
You cannot leave to rise,
For once arisen must it brave
A path to its demise:

To slowly draw into its breast
Each vessel in its wake,
Then shatter all upon its crest
Before the downward break;

Or swell in silent solitude,
Across the fickle seas
To crash upon your shores and quench
Your grove of poison trees.

So slay no spirit, spare your heart,
And know the ocean wide,
That you may breathe the winds that quell
The ever rising tide.

One Day of You

To every orphan child, with love.

Up from my mother's arms so cold,
I looked around the room to see
The many faces looking on
My handsome Abba peacefully
Asleep during the day.

I turned to see my mother who
Stood quiet with her statue face,
I put my hands around her neck,
And held her in my baby brace;
Then in the softest tone,

Inquired: "Ammi, Abba get up?"
Her face retained its rocky state,
I slapped her cheeks with both my hands,
And made the room to resonate:
"AMMI, ABBA GET UP?"

And then her face went soft and warm,
She slowly blinked her moistened eyes,
Her lips went tight, and tears streamed;
I thought an Ammi never cries;
My Ammi never cries.

And so I kissed her face and said,
"Ammi, Abba get up" again.
But that just made her weep some more,
To sadly shake her head, and then
To sit upon the floor.

And that was when I raised my arms,
Before announcing loud and clear:
"Ammi, Abba get up, Ammi,
Abba get up TOMORROW". Dear
Ammi wept on but smiled.
Well said, my little child.

Take heart from what was spoken,
This true reminder token
Of sweet and soothing patience,
Absolutely beautiful:
Tomorrow to be woken.

My child, you live one day of you,
So live your day - gold, green and blue;
But live it right, and live it true,
That when the sun does set on you,

As I did, you may get up too,
Get up to live the rest of you;
Unto the Ever Living Who
Does love you with a love more true

Than mine could ever be for you;
So patience for one day of you,
This day of me and you;
Tomorrow is forever.

The Slave From Abyssinia

Consumed completely by a word
He managed through his many pains
In spite of which was only heard
That word, now coursing through his veins:

"Ahad! Ahad!", was all he said,
Enduring at Umayyah's hands
For every chilling night with dread,
A day upon the burning sands.

Yet not one mite did he relent
To rocks that pinned his body down,
Or lashes that were freely spent
To bit by bit his spirit drown.

"Ahad! Ahad!", was all he said,
And when he couldn't breathe the word,
He raised his finger up instead;
Then doubled was the wrath incurred.

When Abu Bakr heard about
Umayyah's rabid mania,
He quickly set to helping out
The slave from Abyssinia.

Umayyah turned him down at first,
But as he saw the ransom grow,
His greed outweighed his mindless thirst
To break his slave; he let him go.

And so secured the mighty sum
Bilal bin Rabah's safe release;
With every drought Umayyah come
The rains of Abu Bakr ease.

If the drought were to defeat you,
Know: your rains await to greet you.