Some Softly Falling Rain
How can we talk about love? It’s a glass tumbler full of flames, coiling up like flowing hair, tips evaporating in space, then…
I’ll take the blows upon my chin
I’ll rise, I’ll fight and I will win
I will be happy someday soon
I will leave behind this life of sin.
Smiling as I whistle and loosely croon
Living the beat of my new found tune
Tasting the elixir of the other side
A life with only patience hewn.
Remembering all the times I cried
Ashamed of all the lies I lied
I see a new dawn rising now
The beautiful sun my final bride.
Before my fate I humbly bow
The new fields afore I dutifully plough
Sowing my seeds to reap tomorrow
Word by word I renew my vow.
(by Imran Saithna, photographs by Peter Sanders)
I learned this morning of the death of sweet Imran Saithna, whom I knew as a budding poet and whom I last saw reading his Ruba’iyat poems at the London Poetry Sama’ in early December of this year. He’d returned from Hajj, and emailed me, and added his impressions of the Sama’ on his blog, suitably titled Noble Intentions where you may find a poem about that event as well as more of his wonderful poems.
Whenever I hear of the death of a poet I try to read a poem of his or hers in memoriam, so this is that for Imran. Imran was very young and his work was growing, but compassion and sincere earnestness were palpable with him, and I pray he is among the highest with Allah, Who drew him near Him earlier rather than later and with (for us often a puzzling but for Him) a vast and Majestic Love. We come from Allah and to Him we return.