They ask me just what goes through a poet’s mind
What thunder strikes his mind causing him to write?
What emotions are born behind those two eyes
What colour pupils sit on those eyes so white
My tongue itches for praise, the thirst of the self
Ego and arrogance are things hard to fight
I can speak volumes on why none write like me
Why no-one has my mind, no-one has my sight
Or I can be real and tell you the truth
I can be humble and keep my head upright
This tongue serves light so Satan wants this same tongue
So I make Satan scream as this tongue I bite
And tell you the truth: I don’t write my own words
I’ll show you these words’ owners, give them their right
I’ll reference the facts as I see them occur
Who has written these words? Fourteen names I cite
When I need inspiration, I see Hussain
Fires of his love in my heart he’d ignite
When I need a chorus, and hear but silence
I hear the voice of Ummul Baneen recite
When I need that one line that makes people gasp
Abbas takes my pen and writes of his own might
When I need that one line that makes people weep
Zainab whispers to me of fire and fright
When I need that one line that makes people proud
Ali brings me words that in his praise unite
You can’t write about gold, gold writes for itself
They bend my paper like the sun bends the night
I don’t deserve your praise, I don’t deserve your thanks
You don’t thank the sky when the sun brings daylight
Thank the words and thank the lights that wrote these words
For only they will remain after my plight
My reward is in Heaven, and I thank God
My poetry is mercy against sin’s spite
But the secret is, they’re not written by me
At the end of each poem, their names I should write
* * *
(Allentown – 06/06/14)