Ya Allah

Ya Allah, what have I done?

Sometimes when I write one of these I bleed just a bit more

Nonetheless I feel compelled to write as love’s dutiful chore

Between sales meetings and hiring find me dropping rubies-

Weeping on the floor

The only respite now with this closed door

It unearths the good, bad, and everything in Bashir’s core

Rising through the bodice and flowing through hands sore

Oh Lord of the pen, what hast thou written before?

Prior to Heaven, Hell, Muhammad, and the Sun

Ya Allah, what have I done?

It’s from الله