Dried Plums

By: Justoju

I tasted once a juicy plum
That savored away all taste of glum
That made my soul feel light with light
And transcend beyond to inward heights

It made me forget the worldly cares
And caused me to weep for a heavens share
It gave me motivation to decide to live
To take my wants and from them to give

It abated my thirst yet created more
Swimming out to sea, leaving the shore
No longer afraid of drowning deep
The waves could not hold and they could not keep

Knowing that they too were slaves
Unable to harm and unable to save
Creation could no longer create any fear
Could not love and could not cheer

I nourished that plum with my very blood
Knowing it deserved more than my dirt water mud
I protected it with my sajdahs and smiles
Its fortitude tested with sabr during trials

I cleansed it nightly with dua and tears
Hoping to make it spotless, sound and clear
I knew my Beloved would one day inspect its state
And its health and juice would seal my fate

And so I nourished, protected, and cleansed
Until I reached one of the roads unavoidable bends
I slipped and fell, dust flying in my eyes
That made the truth look indistinct from lies

I found myself in a valley of delight
Where every indulgent moment laid upon my plum a blight
The tastes, sights, scents, and strokes were sweet
Forgot that I ever had had a Beloved who I had wished to meet

My plum was forgotten, and left to wither within
Left to dry in a place from me hidden
So distracted was I that its taste I did not desire
And thus left untasted, it became drier and drier

I no longer nourished, protected, or cleansed
For I could not see that it was in need of some mends
I danced in the rain and swam in the lakes
Heedless of the plum in my pleasures sake

I smiled, laughed, cried, and hoped for my peers
Creations effects became the subject of my fears
No motivation left to pray and weep
No care of sins shallow or deep

The taste forgotten, the juices parched dry
So little emotion left with which to cry
Without tears the soul can have no rainbow
And stares at the empty sky for the hint of rain shadow

And so I write from a heart memory failing
And try to grasp an ancient loves trailing
Struggle to remember times when life was true
And the plum was fresh and glowing with dew

The tragedy isnt in my lack of dedication
But lies in my smug content satisfaction
It lies in my not wanting to want more
In my comfortable life as duniyas whore

And so I speak with the voiceless garbled signs of a mute
Trying to once again make music but with a stuffed lute
And so I write with a dying cold heart blind, deaf and dumb
Wishing to want to sacrifice all these orchards for just a taste of that plum


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