Fragrance of Loyalty [0]
 
In this day and age, no aroma of loyalty has been left
In this entire world, no friendly face has been left
 
Universe opened the hand of cruelty, alas!
For loyalty, no powerful arm has been left
 
What fire charred the orchards of loyalty ablaze?
No scent of anything “dry and wet” has been left [1]
 
Some place cosmos hung my life from the strand of a hair
Between there and death, not even thickness of a hair has been left  
Bewailing with whom? Since amongst the Adam’s progeny
For my eyes to behold, no single human being has been left
 
Cast your eyes away Africa! From these lowbred [2]
Bite hard at your heart, since no soulmate has been left [3]

 
 
Ya! Bani Adam (O! Children of Adam) you may fly the skies, dive the bottoms of the seas and behold the depth of the space. You may rearrange the atoms and play with the molecules and compete with God… But tell me; tell me now if you can hold the life-less body of your fellow man like this woman? Herself ailing, herself tired, herself in pain. Can you persevere and stand proud to serve your brother? Word-less and hope-less…
 
Ahoy! You the brave warriors the fearless loyal soldiers, tell me now can you pull the body of your comrade from combat, when yourself riddled with bullets, almost dead like this woman whom endured the last moments of her life serving another already dead? No glory but lots of guts, No medals but lots of infection, No promotion but vile tight patch of earth with no fancy tomb stone for no eyes to admire. Would you fight for her? Would you risk your life to help her off the chair to walk a few steps?
 
Proud not be you the elite religious sages, hairstylists, fabric worshippers, angry microphone gods, tell me now can you be this close to your Lord:

"O son of Adam, I fell ill and you visited Me not. He will say: O Lord, and how should I visit You when You are the Lord of the worlds? He will say: Did you not know that My servant So-and-so had fallen ill and you visited him not? Did you not know that had you visited him you would have found Me with him? ... "

(Hadith Qudsi #18)

I give the treasures of the heavens and earth, for a moment to become those few tired black fingers to hold my sister, for no recompense other than for my Creator to become my hand:

"... My servant continues to draw near to Me with supererogatory works so that I shall love him. When I love him I am his hearing with which he hears, his seeing with which he sees, his hand with which he strikes and his foot with which he walks ... "

(Hadith Qudsi #25)
 
Maybe Africa did not live for technological advancements, economic expansion or mighty warfare. Maybe Africa with its death, be a cradle again, but this time for the lost forgotten essence of brotherhood and for all races.
 
 
[0] I chose this poem from Khaqaani around 1400s to make an insignificant point. We as mankind have lost our essence of loyalty and friendship. As the poet said a fire raged through the gardens of loyalty and burnt it down! It is all gone. Somehow, I found that not being so true amongst the lowest of the lowest i.e. the Africans who are AIDS victims. These people are, in most terrific human manner, quite friendly and loyal to each other shortly before their death as the picture has captured. Perhaps we are the the lowbred and these dying Africans the nobles. 
 
 
[1] “dry and wet” in Farsi means everything collectively like all good and bad. So he means everything has been burnt even the good loyal people.
 
 
[2] The word Africa was put in place of the poet’s name Khaqaani. This poem was an advice to himself and I turned it around towards Africa. He lived around 1400s and was originally a Turk but wrote in both Arabic and Farsi and was an astounding master poet. He served the courts of many kings and rulers of his time.
 
 
[3] Biting at the heart was actually biting or eating the liver, which is a Farsi expression for enduring pain and suffering. I changed it to heart since liver is not a popular word in English language especially on people’s menu.



Background: AIDS victims of Africa.

© 2003-2002,  By Dara Shayda