Fiery Red Rose

(A super ancient 2007 poem I stumbled across in my Yahoo email inbox. Old, but still relevant.)

 

 

Fiery Red Rose

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Behold! The fiery red rose;

A beauty, an ayah, a sign

A true miracle if we ponder

Its wondrous nature through time.

It starts as a simple seed

So fragile, innocent and yet it knows

That Allah is its sole Creator

And this knowledge nourishes it as it grows…

A thin stick with thorns it becomes

Among an assortment of green leaves

A small round bud that calmly sways,

Enjoying the wind’s playful breeze.

The white clouds fondly look down

At the bud that they must feed

For Allah ordered the sky’s rain

To pour down on the young seed.

Flaming orange, beautiful sky

As the sun warms the wet leaves

And a red petal feels a welcome hug

From the gentle, friendly breeze.

A petal is born, a second blossoms

Until all are here, fiery red

Welcoming the blanket of warmth

From the sun now that they are fed.

A marvel, a beauty, a dazzling sight

Yet the rose becomes arrogant not

It recognizes its Lord’s mercy upon it,

Which came before it was sought.

It continues to grow and blossom,

Determined in colors fiery red

But the rosiness of the red soon drops;

Disappointed, for foe had once been friend…

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For the wind that Allah controls once used

To smile and caress the rose

Now howled and quieted the music

Of the singing birds as they froze.

The birds take off and fly to comfort

And a petal falls from the rose in dismay

But it didn’t leave hope; it didn’t leave faith

For it knew its Lord would resurrect it someday…

And off the petals fell, like tears, one by one

Until fiery red the rose was no more

The sky darkened, the leaves coldly shuddered

As something happened like never before…

Soft, white crystal shapes rained down at Allah’s command;

So bright, sparkling, yet agonizing cold from the sky

It was too much for the rosebush to cope with

So it silenced its thoughts, and appeared to die…

But it died with faith, it died with belief

And with this it did not die in vain

Winter soon got tired and spring smiled at last

As Allah commanded the clouds to pour the rain.

The breeze affectionately whispered to the plant

That it was forever its friend

And the bud awakened once more,

Resurrected by his Creator again.

And thus does Allah reveal an ayah, a sign—

That after death, life shall exist indeed

Death is but a breeze, yet only when

In life, faith blossomed from a seed.

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–A.S.

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