Treasure Island

nadia abduljabbar

(25/5/1957 / Makkah)

Meditation


Your enlarged new photo
On desktop of my pc,
Looking at the smile,
And the sad eyes,
With a lot of tears,
I began talking to God,
While meditating:
“God can it be true? ,
Am I not dreaming?
Thou designed that
Difficult destiny for me,
And I arranged
My life to live and
Die all alone, but in
A short while
Or rather in seconds,
Things were upside down.

Oh God:
Would he bear my original
Dashing personality,
My emotionality;
It is true the wild horse
Inside me is tamed
With the passage of years,
But
With all my intellectuality,
That is reflected in my poesy,
I still judge things through
The vibration of my heart,
Or that inner Radar,
I feel things before analyzing
Them; before needing
My mind things are clear
To me.

Would he bear
My irrationality in judging
Things through the heart,
With all the philosophical
Ideas I have.

Would he bear a woman who
Sees in vision what is
Going to happen,
And if she does not see
God thou sends dreams
To closer relative or friend.
As when thou sent the soul
Of his father to his aunt
With two rings,
In the presence of the niece,
Who was the first one
To feel the bud of love
Is beginning to grow.

The father in the dream
Was hiding the rings in a box
Afraid from the aunt to steal them,
So she told me innocently
A month ago in a similar party.
Would he bear this kind
f spirituality.

Would he bear that my
Mother came to me Immediately after we met
Ordering me to zip my lips,
And her eyes were like Numbers of a money machine;
Would he bear this
Kind of spirituality.

Long before listening
Or watching Tarig
Habib I wrote about
The combination of mind,
Heart and body beside
Spirituality in love
Relationship;
To save the ship
Of love from sinking.
I stressed this fact in “ Is
Desire a Phoenix”; in wish
To enlighten people with
The little knowledge I feel
Or reached to through
Contemplation after failure
In communication.

If holding his mother
To my chest made me
So confused and I almost
Fell before reaching her,
What would happen to
Me if I ever hold him tight.

God, please, never let
Him hurt me
With bad poems or songs,
Even if I do not get
The meaning of his symbols,

And if he withdraws frankly,
I wish him all the happiness
In the world and the Hereafter,
Even if I am sad I will
Not be hurt for he has
All the right to accept
OR
Refuse what he dislikes.

But please God stop the mystery
And let him tell
Me what he feels directly,
Even if it is that he does not
Like A mature woman
With a heart of a child.

25 April 2013


comment of a reader from Austraila(male 36) :

Malcolm sealy:


1. Thankyou Nadia, It is very nice to hear you talk about these things...
the whooshing, the weightlessness weighing myself down until a poem is complete is something that is truly amazing..
please I would be honoured if you read one of my poems.

regards, Mal

(I havent read my bible yet)






2.


really liked your Poesy and Meditation poem. Ill read more.
Sorry! I was imagining you whooshing and such while writing Meditation. This is what happens to myself :)

Submitted: Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Edited: Saturday, May 04, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Jeddah,
24April.

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