Magic
By Jehangir Saleh
Written: July 7, 2002

There is something
Quite
Magical about poetry
Unsure, I am
Precisely what this magic is
It seems there is this
Vague understanding
A lyrical harmony
A momentous meaning
To life
Even if dull, and faded
It remains, if only for a second
It matters not
The defination
Only that this magic
Exists
And is
Recieved, given, shared
So that everyone
May experince
Its temporary, magical lull

There is magic in us
There is magic in this poem

Jehangir Saleh
3 Mendip Cres, Toronto, ON
M1P1Y3

Fire Hydrants
By Jehangir Saleh
Written: April 27, 2002

2:37am
Stand guard
Against a vast epidemic
Of empty
The streets barren
From earlier invasions
Battles fought
With only
One left standing
Erect, alone, exposed

The wind is sore
And cruel
Silence screams
Ravishing each moment
Seconds stumble,
Each one
Mortifying the next

Stand tall
Proud, shielded
By thick red armor
And frozen dog urine
The world is tarnished
And you are rusting
Peeling, falling apart

Random car belches
The occasional
Suicidal scream
And then nothing

Nothing
Upon layers of
Nothing

The worst plagues
Occur in a still
Of silence

A Funnel In My Ear
For Lindsay
By Jehangir Saleh
Written: April 16, 2002

There is a mole
Furrowing through the funnel
In my ear

I listen, and he laughs
Quite a ticklish mole indeed

Let’s name him Bobert
Yes, Bobert, the mole
Snuggling in blindness
While funneling in the funnel
That has somehow found
It’s way into my ear

I was thinking about a better place
Of deep red comfort
Skies stained a very warm pink
Where we might furrow away
And then came Bobert
And his funnel

I listened
While he laughed
(Quite I ticklish mole indeed)
Closed my eyes
And wrote
What I suppose is a poem
For you

This Is All I Know
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: February 14, 2002

I will reveal myself
To the bare moon
And make my salt
Where the land embraces
The sea

I will sleep
Aside the holy books
Their covers torn –
Pressed as one,
Reveal a single revelation

I will weep rosewater
And sip my tears

I will curdle myself
In hope
And hope

In this moment
I am a single
Drop of fluid
Gently tortured
By the sea

The Journey
By Jehangir Saleh
Written: January 17, 2002

I am following the right path
To my sovereign Lord
In the warm shadows beneath the high trees
In the comfort of the sweet air
Above, the green leaves drip down
Sunshine
I am blessed
And begin my journey

Length and dark will
Test my devotion
And bounds will break
With the love of my Lord
I must not stray
For on this path
I take my Mirage¹

Accompanied by sparrows
And chipmunks
The trees bow
And the robins sing
The praise
Of their creator
Each step is new
Fulfilling
Closer to harmony

Pausing, resting
Feeling the earth tug
At my soul
Letting the breeze
Whisper in my ear

I continue my path
Collecting the delicate drops of sunshine
Guided by the flowing breeze
Whose breath
Is whispering praises

[1] The journey Prophet Mohammed took through the seven heavens to meet with Allah.

Oh devote one
You pace with hunger
For you Lord
Your devotion
Will usher you in the
Blessed abode
I know
Of your longing,
Intoxicated with
Love

As the wind inhales
The sun begins to hide

Your path seems infinite
Each step will become
Oppressive
Dark nights
Reveal plagues
And demons
Who will not rest
Aside you

To the West
May you also
Find your Lord
With ease —
A burden- less path
Where dark remains friends
With Day

Sun is straining
Through the top leaves
Sparrows in still
Facing the right path
As I ponder the West

The path parts
And away from
Mecca² I turn

Night floods the forest
Along with dense darkness
That knows not of
Its true companion, Day

[2] Muslims pray toward Mecca; they pray toward the East.

Each dawn
Light must push through
The tree tops
Dusting off on
Owls and ravens
Who raped the
Last sparrow journeying
The West path

Light shortens as
The dark grows
I travel through
Their violent divorce —
Dark must be beating Day

Three more revolutions
Of the world
Dries me out
Dehydration consumes
My canteen
The wind seems
Arid, hungry
My thirst pokes
Like a thistle
As the path turns
To a poisoned pond

I pause
And ponder
Feeling swirls
Of building temptation

The wind hums
Praise and prayers
And the swirling
Subsides
As I attempt
Ignorance
My thirst begs

The path narrows
To a deeper part of the forest
All shadows begin to cool
The sunrays are forbidden
By the leaves that grow cover
I am below the blessed
Where
Dark has defeated light

In piercing circles, swarms the wind
Whispers now become screams
Rattling my ears
Owls and ravens watch
Perched on branches
Of trees
Whose leaves have been desolated
In sacrifice

The path and I weaken

No further can I travel
I pause for an unsettled rest
Shielded by jagged
Knives of rock
Is a blue stream of
Flowing beauty
Her Liquids are poisonous
But for the deserts
I thirst
And so I drink.

I peer at myself
Rippled in the waves
That imitate
Flaunting my anguish
Back at me

I continue
Poisoned
A budding insanity
Lingers
Cured only by
The hand of
My lord

I begin to beg
Of the wind
To whisper me
The virgin distance
Of my journey
So I may hope
Once again

In silence
I receive my answer

Now
I am bothered not
By the owls and ravens
That perch upon
The crosses
Of rough tree bark —
In blindness
My dark is thicker
Than night

The wind begins
To blow
And I get up
To follow
Knowing
That I will forever
Step away from my lord
Only to fall on
The Day of Judgement³

[3] The Day when mankind meets their creator. Depending upon Islamic sect, The Day of Judgement can be individual or one where mankind as a whole is called upon by Allah.