right up until the time of finishing this book. Hundreds of poems have arisen from within me: most in praise of Allah but many also to capture moments of curiosity, wonder, joy, frustration, and disappointment at things I have observed occurring within or affecting the surprisingly disunited ummah.
In many ways I became a Muslim at an unusual and difficult time, with relations between Muslims and non-Muslims severely strained by various factors. These include 9/11, the so-called War on Terror, 7/7 and other bombings, bans in European countries of minarets and burkas, Qur’an burnings, the rise of anti-Islamic groups like the English Defence League (the loutish and hateful protests of which I have twice observed first-hand) and a flood of new books which erroneously condemn Islam as brutish and backward. I have experienced anti-Muslim hostility myself, including a savage and highly dishonest tabloid attack and a steady trickle of unpleasant emails from anonymous people who claim I have betrayed my western values, and rendered myself unfit to hold senior posts, by embracing Islam. Some of the poems in this collection respond to those foolish and unenlightened views.
As a poet my changes of religious affiliation and outlook could not have occurred at a more exciting time. Everything seems intense; everything feels intense. I therefore thank Almighty God that he let me come to Islam after having observed it from outside for four decades and then, in an era bursting with dramatic things to write about, he opened my eyes to the majesty of the Qur’anic revelation. I am a very fortunate poet and I pray insha’Allah that my poems have captured at least some of the colour, verve and pathos of today’s Islamic world.
Joel Hayward
September 2011
I wanted to write a poem
Of You
That does not
Include me
But my first word here was
I and I
Want to say I’m sorry
But that’s also about me
You Oh Lord
Are beyond words
Anyway
Even the prettiest
Are shabby
Compared to Your heart
Of love
Even words that sound
The same
As their meaning –
Scrumptious, Graceful
Sweetheart –
Are clumsy and ugly
Compared to
Your name
Words as fragrant
As their flowers –
Carnations, violets,
Goldenrods,
Dahlias –
Wither as weeds
When Your warmth
Radiates as midday
From the pages of Your Book
A poem of You
Needs only one word
Or ninety-nine
And it is finished
On the day that paper clips and files
And memos snowed upon a city
I opened an unfamiliar book
To see what had brought that storm
Each night I brushed back dreams
By turning pages of profundity
To learn what had placed death
In the eyes of passport photos
The heavens opened for
Forty days within my mind and
Soul in a Noah’s flood of
Confusing certainties
The willing dead were absent in
Every word but my forty days
Left greater questions buoyant
And curiosity unvanquished
I sailed twenty times
In seven years through
Surah seas of calm swells
Pushed by winds of conscience
Twenty times I charted their
Depths – truly Pacific –
Before I knew that I
Knew nothing
When tranquil winds lifted
La ilaha illallah I heard a soft Muhammadur Rasulullah Slip without thought from my lips
A book read twenty times asked
When I would embrace its truth
And in a small stillness I replied
Now oh Lord, Now
Hands clenched, passions wrenched
Hearts ablaze, these days of rage
Shouts in the air, pauses for prayer
Streets, squares, mosques, theirs
Hearts freed, knees bleed,
Proud, aloud, unbowed crowd
Freedom sought, its shape unthought
Unknown ideal, substance not real
Grass is greener, democracy leaner
Cigarette smoking, despots choking
Forgotten youth and unseen truth
Confused eyes, fleeing spies, sons’ lies
Streets, squares, no longer theirs
Ranting, railing, panting, flailing
Heads full of pain, nothing to gain
Power grasping, compromise asking
Opportunity lost, everything cost
Posterity crushing and the end fast rushing
I read your words and hear whispered reminders
As my tired eyes struggle across dots and black curves
While I ponder and wonder and stare holding my chin
As wisdom tries to sneak inside crowds of thoughts on life
I read your words and hear my slow breathing, deep
And know that on that day it will cease and I’ll sleep
And then blink inside your sun-drenched calmness
As I step forward to hear your thoughts on my life
I read your words and feel the tug of sad conscience
And know whom I’ve let down, helped and annoyed
When you wanted more and yet I gave so little
And wasted time as I walked too quickly through life
I closed my eyes darkly and called back your words
And slid them silently from my tongue into my room
Where they’ll circle and swarm close to my pillow
As I ask for their meaning and the warmth of their life