Clouds

Each day begins with Ar Rahman*, Ar Raheem**,
as you float in and out of my window screen,
lighting the world brighter each time you leave,
Or shading the world, providing reprieve,
a thermometer of mercy for our ailing atmosphere,
Both majestic and mild, opaque yet sheer.

When overwhelmed with grief,
Al Muquit*** becomes chief.
Your heaving tears lash the wayward sky,
pouring onto plants, your plentiful supply,
seeping through their hardened skin,
nourishing the life of their kith and kin.

But when Al Jabbar**** appears at the drop of a hat,
your electrical power combines in a vat
of energy that can strike, any moment, any place,
trees charred, homes burnt, human lives effaced.
With a fury, the wind begins to whip.
To a torrent of floods, you say, “Let ’er rip”,
adding thunderous applause all on your own
drowning out people’s screams, prayers and moans.

When you are As Salam***** though,
there is no greater peace and flow
than to gaze upon your billowing forms,
reminding us of time’s passing charms.
If only we paused our mindless actions,
looked towards your ivory abstractions,
adjusted our frantic pace to match yours,
laughed at your changing shapes and contours,
got lost in your ethereal wisps and wonders,
as you reminded us daily to rethink our blunders,
that what at first may appear solid and real,
is only an illusion, another layer to peel,
heavenly ephemera through which we’ll one day fall
into the realm of Divinity, keen to answer the Call.

This poem incorporates a few of the 99 names of Allah. Their meanings are as follows:
*Ar Rahman – The Beneficient
**Ar Raheem – The Merciful
***Al Muquit – The Sustainer
****Al Jabbar – The Compeller
*****As Salam – The Embodiment of Peace