at the hands of sorrow, come my love
(Dastam Geer) 
the ache of this heart, forsake me not
Once I had
a bloodied heart, even that slipped through my
control of all affairs, come to me O! Love
the reunion with You, always in depth of sorrow
I am ill
since that moment when forced away from You
upon I: humiliated, destitute and helpless
not, by pass me not, nurse me back to health
I am, my dear, by this end-less loss 
bear being afar, give me respite from this life
circling Your hearth, intoxicated by Your fragrance
behold a trace of Your face, sobbing for that as well
ear with the ring, Free me not! Sell me not! 
dearest, forget me not, remember me oft
sighs and screams, offered me no benevolence 
this moment off my feet, lift me aloft
love in this universe, no companion solacing the
No one has
my heart, indeed You still have my heart
not in bliss, entangled troubled with sorrow
Its door, Scream: O! My consoler 
What is left of a man? When
the blight of this world has
consumed his body, mind has been rubbed out, heart no longer even able
any pain! Poverty long gone… Since to have or not to have, to eat or
not to eat
no longer constitute a human affair. Araqi tells us, whom died from a
fever: What remains is the very essence of man himself as put together
Splendor of the life of this
world to a Sufi is the real
ailment, where you are ill by little pleasures of life, small
wealth, betraying any and all around specially the Beloved. Where you
pain by the analgesic numbness of routine life, when life is for sure a
nightmare and you wish to wake up to death only to sober up and be once
that magnificent creature the Creator composed with Its love and
dressed by the
Hijab (veil) of Its beauty.
 I thought some readers my want to
rhyme with the
original words of Araqi in Farsi. So I added the optional Farsi rhyme
Geer”. ‘Dastam’ means my hand and ‘Geer’ stands for hold or fetch.
pronounces like “fast at” and ‘Geer’ sounds like Geese.
 Man has the capacity to fall into
that even the ache of his heart becomes a thing of the past. Araqi uses
Farsi term “bloodied heart” which is a colloquial phrase to mean
suffering. Araqi says, in a common street language, I am beyond
 Araqi teaches us that it is not the
AIDS virus that is
bringing the man in the picture the suffering. The real cause of any
suffering, all treachery and heartache is being away from the Creator.
man in the sanctuary of his wealth and health, afar, drown in
his life, thinks that a poor African is dying from a horrific disease.
Come closer, gaze upon this mirror and you shall view your own face!
Suffering because of being away from the Creator.
 In ancient Persia they pierced the
ears of the slaves to
indicate their status of bondage in the society. Araqi knows his ears
pierced by Allah, and he begs… Allah don’t set me free to become sick
man… don’t sell me off to this life to become free and hideous.
 When a man falls of the cliff he
screams, but for whom?
He knows no one can save him from the fall. When a hot water pours on
the man he
screams, but for whom? He knows there is no way to reverse the awful
Araqi narrates that we scream and moan, though to ignorant there is no
there to respond back, even when we ourselves suspect that these
not heard, Behold! Since there is no one out there to help and since
not like any one we know or heard or seen, then be assured,
indeed imperceptible, Allah is to lift us aloft, though we know not. In
precise moment of helplessness when all betrayed you and no one in
help, be assured Beloved loves you and It is close to you... About to
helping hand. For some like the man with AIDS, he is going to be lifted
after his departure from this world to his Maker, though we care not to
 I see words falling off the cliffs
of this patient’s
face and I see words blossoming from his emaciated legs, shouting at my
“Hey! No one loves me any longer, have no money and no strength and no
or youth, but my heart is indeed with Beloved and It loves me much.”
come to this moment of life-ending truth until and unless some ironic
deliver us the capricious moment to open the doors of perception.
to someone or someone else holding or having one’s heart, in Farsi
means to be
 ‘Araqi’ was replaced by ‘Africa’.
Araqi is teaching us a
valuable lesson, “Don’t complain to creation, no one will come to your
moan to your Beloved Creator It is your one and only consoler”. My pen
the silent beseech of this AIDS patient to our Beloved, though my ears
not! Araqi was a child prodigy master Sufi poet from Hamedan, Iran whom
traveled to India to further his art and education. He lived around
Background: African AIDS
victim taking a bath.
Music: Dastam Geer by
By Dara Shayda