Islam

By Franz Pajunen

I: Hajj

nowadays (and I don’t know if this is true of everyone

and everywhere, but nevertheless) people love to talk of

deconstruction, deconstruct

your upbringing, deconstruct your

god, deconstruct your

cat

if it will bring you closer

to an understanding, a dynamic,

bendable truth, if it will free you to do this

deconstruct it, until that new pile of rubble

needs to be deconstructed itself,

you inevitable builder,

doer, creator, deconstruct even

yourself, you have been built

and you must?

this is where I am lost, perhaps we are built

wrong and that is why we need all this

deconstruction

(make it fresh, make it new!)

or perhaps in discovering our inevitable debt

to old forms, we will make a meaningful

now from dissecting the pulse of the moment

we will begin to understand

but what will we understand? in this rush

to deconstruct and to analyze and dissect

I can’t but be a bit cynical

that even the margins

of the page go into the paper shredder,

even the beautiful goes in with the hurt

is there room in all this deconstruction simply to

be? to orient my prayer rug

toward Mecca and

raise my hands?

or must I eternally be seeking, eternally be sought

I don’t pretend to understand, and yet

sometimes I’d like simply to exist

simply, when taking a break from a summer swim

to look at the sky and think of Him,

the indeconstructible (or not? depends

who you ask)

the one and only constant

al-Rahman nir-Rahim

II: Salat

nothing is sacred

some cry

or is everything sacred

some say

life is what you make it

some say

you are what it makes you

still, the wind whistles through the trees

in this forest, the sands on the beach

are wet with the tide

and in the walking of the journey,

in the steps along the path

I have sensed in myself a longing

for something, anything, and my only task

to discover if it is arrogant of me

to want more than this, to know if a desire
(like the one I have

for eternal, unceasing, inseparative love)

can ever be fulfilled, or if I waste the trees

and the sunset, and the beach

and the wind passing through it all

speaking and thinking

and dreaming of Him,

the one whom I call

al-Rahman nir-Rahim

III: Zakat

in the kiss I will give

to the one I will love

in the heart I break open

and pour on the fire

in the listening, in the watching,

in the touch and the taste

lies the answer to my questioning,

but I don’t speak the language

IV: Shahada

I did not begin this poem

hoping to pontificate, I never write

hoping to convert

a living soul, no

it is more important to me

that hearts touch, that the tender flesh

of the heart not be broken

again

and again by contact with another, that the hope

of the soul not be butchered

like a dove

caught up in a bloody love ritual

we all have hearts

that beat like dove’s wings,

frantic for love, for a love

that lasts

but no, I cannot pretend

that my love for Him

is the only answer, that my love for you

will cure all your ills

all I know, for all my learning and knowledge

the chief words on my lips,

al-Rahman nir-Rahim

V: Sawm

if I have learned anything

from building sandcastles

on the beach

as the tide comes in

destruction and creation

are not polar

opposites, they occur

at the same time, they are in harmonious

dance, they are beautiful and terrible

and in all our hands, or if not in ours

in some kind of orbit

about each other, or simply

going through the motions

of Qadr

breaking apart

is often part of building up

and constructing a new heart

often you throw parts

away

did you know as each day goes

by I grow stronger? even as the answers

leave me and I am left with no words, just a love

a survival…

a way to go on

al-Rahman nir-Rahim

Franz Pajunen is a poet and artist based in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. His work focuses on themes of faith, identity, nature, and purpose.