DR. JAY R. CROOK
Jay R. Crook (Md. Nur) was born in upstate New York, the second son of a clergyman, but spent his formative years in the New York metropolitan area. A chance acquaitance awakened his interest in Islamic culture and civilization, and he soon embraced Islam. After completing his military service and saving some money, he traveled to East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) to study for a few years. He wound up spending most of his working life in the Middle East, especially in Iran and Saudi Arabia. Hired by the Peace Corps as a field representative, he finished in 1971 as Deputy Director in the Iran program. He then enrolled in the Doctoral Program of Persian Literature for Foreigners at Tehran University and received his Ph.D. in 1978. His doctoral thesis was A Comparison of the Quranic Stories of Surabadi With the Bible. Much revised and expanded, it has become the core of The New Testament: an Islamic Perspective and its companion volume The Old Testament: an Islamic Perspective. Subsequent to leaving Iran in 1980, he worked as an English teacher in the U.S. and Saudi Arabia before retiring in 1997. He now resides in Arizona and has translated several books from Persian into English, including Kashifi’s The Royal Book of Spiritual Chivalry and Ghazzali’s The Alchemy of Happiness.
WRITINGS BY DR. JAY R. CROOK
FICTION
NON-FICTION AND TRANSLATIONS
A Birth Narrative of the Prophet Muhammad (S)
My Parents,
Rev. and Mrs. Walter E. Crook
HAMIDEH ABNOOS
AMIR MOAYED- PARDAZI
Jay R. Crook
Alone in the Wasteland
© 2011 Jay R. Crook
What dya do in the evenin’,
When time is runnin’ out?
What dya do in the mornin’,
When there’s no one to hear your shout?
What dya do in the noontime,
When you face the empty chair?
What dya do on the morrow,
When there’s still no one there?
There ain’t no easy answers,
And time is passin’ by;
There ain’t no more questions,
Just, Why, O Lord, why?
I lay me down and wonder,
What’s it all about?
I close my eyes and listen,
But all I hear is doubt
What dya do in the playground,
When there’s no one with whom to play?
What dya do in the garden,
When the flowers die away?
What dya do in the river,
When the water’s goin’ down?
What dya do on the open road,
But search from town to town?
There ain’t no easy answers,
And time has passed me by;
There ain’t no more questions,
Just, Why me, Lord, why?
I lay me down and wonder,
How did I miss my goal?
I close my eyes and listen,
To the whisperin’s in my soul.
What dya do in the forest,
When the trees have disappeared?
What dya do when it’s rainin’,
And the water’s tastin’ weird?
I look in all directions,
But there’s nothin’ to be seen;
Just the awful desolation
Of an old man’s dreams.
I’m all alone in the Wasteland,
The Wasteland of my life;
There ain’t no peace in the Wasteland,
Just lots of pain and strife.
I’ve been a lot of places;
But there’s more that I ain’t seen;
I lay me down and wonder,
What does it all mean?
What dya do in the Wasteland,
On a dark and moonless night?
What dya do in the Wasteland,
When the sun ain’t shinin’ bright?
There’s nothin’ to see in the ruins
Nothin’ to see, or keep—
There ‘s nothin’ to do in the Wasteland,
But look about and weep;
I’m all alone in the Wasteland,
The Wasteland of my dreams;
I’m all alone in the Wasteland,
Ain’t nothin’ what it seems
I jus’ keep on ploddin,
An’ lookin’ for a sign;
For me there ain’t no stoppin’
Until the end of the line.
What dya do with the pictures
Of loved ones long gone?
What dya do when there’s no one
To listen to your song?
I try to keep on goin’,
But I just ain’t that strong
I lay me down and wonder,
Why it’s takin’ so long.
I’m all alone in the Wasteland.
There’s nothin’ growin’ there;
Ain’t nothin’ in the Wasteland,
Nor a single bird in the air.
I lay me down and wonder,
Where did I lose my way?
I close my eyes; I’m hopin’;
The answer’ill come some day.
Jay R. Crook
Aug 22-Sept 24, 2011