Somewhere in the Middle

My life is lack luster poetry
I live not in the painful throws of passion
Nor in the receded genius of cold calculation
My life doesn't hurt but...
Ill never look back in triumphant satisfaction
My life is a modest smile, a slight disappointment
Its a moderate existence
Pleasant
nice
politically correct
lived in clean
surface deep
and real

Our sound

There is this sound people make in my culture
As if they were hit in the stomach with a blunt object
Like the last breath had just escaped your lunges
Your chest retracts as your heart retreats with in your body
wrenching of pain
Oh beautiful organ may Allah spare you
Hands clutch the bosom desperately
twisted and wrinkled with in them the clothes worn like a shield
Brief, quiet, and gut wrenching
This is the sound of my people
Of their pain
Ah, waa Ani badee
Oh, I am lost!

Diamonds

I have yet to find my diamond
My body bare of adornments
my gaze cast low avoiding sympathetic eyes
Pats on the back and condolences
Insha'allahs and du'as they mutter for me
Jazahkum'allah I respond
Beautiful patience they urge me
Beautiful patience, I nod agreeably
At times my heart aches selfishly
My diamond, my diamond
But I cry not diamonds
Just a salty sea filled with weeds
Verily in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest
So I rest in the paradise of dunya
Awaiting death, judgment, and my diamond