Читать книгу Shades of Islam - Rafey Habib - Страница 17

Prophet of God

Prophet of God, I am

Steeped in the things

Of sin, and wrong:

Unworthy to stand

Beside you,

Or even to sing in

Your praise.

Prophet of my heart, my

Verse is beneath you, my

Only skill, bequeathed by

Birth, perturbed dreams

Of your nights and days.

How can I come near

The cloak that wraps you,

When fear dries my throat,

When I know Who spoke

In your hearing.

How can I read, or

Understand, when I live

At the edge of His commands,

When my sins need

To feel Him forgive?

Where will I find help;

Where will I know the

Good in Self; where

Will I not be alone, if not

In the places you

Have known?

If I stand, arrayed,

Against my own desire,

For fame, prestige, wealth,

Will your shield defend

My faith, against the fire,

Against my own, lower, self?

If I come stumbling,

Across desert and

Grey seas; if I humbly call

Across the sands, will you

Reach for my hand?

Prophet of God,

Do not turn away from me;

Stay… say a prayer for me:

Unworthy to sing

In His praise.

Prophet of my heart,

My lonely art, companion

Of my unworthy

Nights and days.