A POEM.

[elshiva]

I wrote this about Rabi'a the Sufi saint.

"The Liberation of Rabi?a, the Light of Iraq"

Rabi?a, grieved at the lose of her family,
walked the famined streets of Basra,
calling to God, her only friend.
She confided to Him,
counting her troubles as prayer beads,
but wanting ever to please Him,
pausing after each footstep
to close her eyes,
centering on the Light shining within.

These were hungry, lonely times for Iraq.
A man driven by deprivation,
Seized the entranced Rabi?a,
to him, she was bread.
He sold her for six silver dirhams
and bought oil and flour.

So, Rabi?a had a master
demanding her service every moment of the day.
?In this house I am your god.
If you disobey, I shall smite you.?
The words were foreign to the one
who knew the Love of the All-Merciful.

One evening as Rabi?a cooked her master?s supper,
the rays of the setting sun rested on her dim eyes
red, yellow, orange leaped like fire,
flames licked her fainting heart,
bringing her to dance in the gathering glow,
knocking over the lamb stew with whirling.

At that moment the master entered the kitchen.
Seeing Rabi?a?s intoxicated dance and the overturn pot,
he shouted, ?Worthless she-goat!
You ruin my food
and steal my wine!?

Taking her by the hair,
he dragged her out to the courtyard,
pushed her down,
dislocating her wrist.



Rabi?a sat in the sand,
eyes closing in pain,
crying to God,
?O, Lord, You know I want to obey You,
not this creature.
You are my Light morning, evening,
every watch of night.
Yet this is the darkest hour,
without mother or father,
enslaved to a stranger,
who broke my wrist.
Why, O, Lord?
My true grief is not these,
but that I have not satisfied You,
this is Your punishment.?

Then the Heat that knows no sunset
warmed her cheeks and clasped hands, saying,
Do not sorrow, My love.
For I rejoice at Your work
and even more do I delight in your happiness.
Tonight, your faith has freed you from bondage.?

The master woke
drawn by a beacon beaming through the bedroom window,
below him,
his slave sat bowed in prayer,
above her,
a lamp hung without a chain.
The Sakina shone
radiantly around Rabi?a.
The Brilliance of Allah bathed her,
beams cascading and breaking
like streams of oil.

Trembling, the master placed his forehead to the ground
?Who is this girl, God?
She must be great for you to favor her.
Another Mary,
filled with Your Glory.
You brand her as Your property.
Have I a right
to own God?s handmaiden??



So, he released her at dawn,
paying her homage
asking for prayers of forgiveness.
Rabi?a granted him this last task.
After manumission,
She let no man order her life.
She would answer only the Light,
feeding the God of the Desert Sun
the parched bread of the heart.

--elshiva
2/2/04