Poeems on Oppression and Corruption
This article presents various poems that reflect on the themes of oppression and corruption:
Poem: O Oppressor, Take Your Time
O Oppressor, pause for a moment,
You stand as a ruler, inexperienced.
All that you savor from the air,
Is merely torment and a volatile ember.
No one but God can shield
The cries of the oppressed, for there is a veil.
So fear God, for beneath Him lies the secret
That binds both the oppressor and the oppressed after death.
In the hereafter, there is no protector,
And no excuse will be heard.
What warns you against your oppression?
Is it not death and the grave that shall silence you?
Some of his suffering within it shall serve as a reprimand for you.
Poem: Is It Not Corruption You Embrace?
Is it not corruption that you have embraced, O river of sin?
Or are you without purpose in this world and in religion?
A game you play, with chaos swaying,
Through fire, water, or mud, relentlessly.
Those waters gathered and surged,
From the dregs of generations and the shadows of eyes.
They surged forth, overwhelming, and left behind
No celebrations for the poor, nor refuge for the needy.
Mute, or aggressive in their flow,
They demolish with force or ease.
Until the confines of old burdens arise,
Two dams of solid stone form swiftly.
Testing their foundations, they attempt to mend
But falter, carried forth by the madness of despair.
And they unite, aiming to engulf the highest grounds,
Only to find it empty of support.
Poem: I See Corruption and Evil Lost Between Them
I see corruption and evil lost between them,
The affairs of the people lack faith and morals.
A torrent of sins confronts me forcefully,
What I claimed to hold back was only a deluge that drowned.
It has reached souls, where the afflicted are called,
One is saved, while another sinks in its depths.
Time renews itself, cleansing from sins with blood,
While the earth ignites in horror.
A people who, when called to guidance, recoil,
Yet spring forward when beckoned by blindness.
Nothing remains of the established scripture among them,
Only ink to behold and paper.
Paths of virtue are narrow for them, yet
Vast are the roads of vice amongst their backs.
The morning cries out at the sight of their actions,
And the dusk sobs under their burden.
The people have not outlived their vile tendencies,
For in past generations, they displayed the same corruptness.
They perished from cowardice, and their assault grew stronger
Against the Divine, yet there was no fear or retreat.
They waged war, unafraid of repercussions,
Until they were struck down and fell in shock.
They were made to taste the bitterness of affliction,
And from humiliation, they gulped down their transgressions.
O, the burdens cast upon every activist,
In a calamity that constricts the necks below.
With burdens they must carry, there is no escape,
If the tiller fails or the sustenance dries.
The harvest comes, and the plunderers take what remains
After the locust has fed, and the worms and leeches stay.
They departed, leaving Egypt famished,
Starved, clutching their bellies in despair.
Nothing remains, even if they held out hope,
Except the dying, as they grapple with mortality.
It astounds me, the sustenance that exhausts the people,
In a land poured upon by the Nile and sweat.
They do not cease, and their laboring does not end,
As they scatter seeking a means to live.
Pharaoh was more considerate in his rulings
Than the oppressors who exist; had it not been for oppression, they would not have emerged.
They said, “You have lost your way, so we have come to guide you”,
Then hastily retreated, neither mindful nor truthful.
The cries of falsehood echo in the shadows of their dominion,
Resounding loudly, while the truth remains choked.
They mourn the new order and languish beneath the weight,
Of injustices with neither relief nor respite.
No cycle of misrule within them concludes,
Except a cycle that renews amongst us afterward.
A prolonged stay, and we find ourselves in turbulence,
For time is tumultuous with their oppression and nagging unease.
They believed hearts would comply to them, yet they are deceived
By the approval of the meek, by falsehoods and flattery.
Oh, how I long to know if the people are mad or if they simply assert,
That tenderness is naught but the name of rage.
I would not fear for the oppressors a calamity,
If we were united, but how can we unite?
When shall I see matters resolved, after the cracks have healed,
With unity among the people, devoid of factions or division?
Woe to the bow, as it is now bereft of members,
Hopeless while wondering who to trust.
Each has a doctrine, hoping for salvation through it,
And the truth is recognized by the discerning one.
The people shall come to know the end of the treacherous, and
What vanity reaps, along with ignorance and folly.
Poem: Awaken, for Time’s Oppression Never Ceases
Awaken, for the oppression of time is unforgiving,
And the companion of anguish is the worst companion.
It branches me into revived emotions,
Apathically leading to sorrows, veering off my beaten path.
For my essence is divided by thoughts that neglect love,
As one side distracts while the other suffers.
Within my being burns a fire of longing, much like
When kindled by distance, it becomes a blaze.
For the memory of a time that has departed with youth,
And a life that has become scarce yet rich.
I have concealed from you my humiliation as a lover,
For love, overbearing, pulls me with its indecisiveness.
And I remain innocent of the affections of deceitful friends,
For their promises in absence are not sincere.
My kindness to them is mirrored by my shortcomings,
Just as they reflect my benevolence with disloyalty.
I say, while my companions pursue their own whims,
That they have strayed from the path I once walked.
Take me to the shores of Homs, as I long to return
To my treasured companion who is so near.
I yearn for the old days, and I seek
To draw closer, despite the distances that conspired.
How long can I endure the remains of kindness,
And the face of those who extend generosity to the needy?
He holds a distinguished lineage among the illustrious,
And pride of ancestry runs deep within him.
When young men come forth about bearing debts,
Shall they find one unable to carry it, or robust enough to withstand?
I found a kindred spirit, deep within our abode,
The noble one of heritage, my kin to be proud of.
A youth who resonates with dignified principles,
And in a manner worthy, he is sought after.
I see him as my asset in trouble and hardship,
A comforter in my time of distress and difficulty.
As for my closest relatives, they prove valuable, yet this
Proximity reveals many forms among them.