half past nomad

I sit here, a blank text box, a pleasing machine waiting for my bidding but words don’t come, words don’t flow through me. I stare at my hands, I take off my glasses and look at them, clean them, and place them back carelessly on my face.

I sit back.

Apparently, a houseful of silence has captured words once verbose. Thoughts mull about, refusing to be examined, waiting for actions to speak on their behalf. I don’t argue. I know them too well, these shy thoughts with brash bottled actions. I wonder in a small corner of my mind, the few thoughts I can control fatigued huddle on the side, a defense party, examine from far binocular eyes the remaining mental plateau.

I stretch myself.

The mirror on the wall remains defiant smugly, showing me only what I show it first. ‘Unfair!’ I proclaim, my hands trying to cover what I show. The images still come through, the gaps between my fingers leaking a truth I cannot deny. It stuns me, a slow punch in the chest which you see coming a mile away. A realization slow, a dawn faster, I stare at the truth through my fingers and desperately wish to accept. The controls below the mirror remain unscathed by stupidity, lacking a monkey wrench that always seems to screw up things. Unbelievable.

I grin into empty air.

I am consciously aware of being muslim. Of there being my Allah. Of submitting. Of Him being there. Given that I am human, I err. Given that I am a being, I tire. Given that I am me, I stumble mumble bumble jumble crumple what I should not. I am not enlightened of the true serenity of Islam, far from it. I seek it and I destroy my searches ignoramously. But I know, even as I type this, as the Hurricane Isabel causes power to flicker on|off but for the aid of my laptop battery…as it plunges inland, as it caresses virgin land with its beautifully dangerous kisses, dancing to a death to a phoenix rebirth…

I seek forgiveness.

This entry was posted on Friday, September 19th, 2003 at 4:28 am and is filed under General Lee.