finding sakina in supplication

When du’as (supplications) are answered, life halts and feels almost fragile. The solace it brings is a gentle [Divine] nudge: that your endured pains have never existed.

What an incomparable gift.

* * *

Dear God,

In times of distress, I’ve learned that stability is a blessing. That soundness of mind provides you with a complete consciousness necessary to breathe easily. That contentment of the heart is what is needed to move forward.

After every accepted whisper, the only words that dare escape my lips spell of Your praise. I am consistently reminded of Your loving mercy.

You give in abundance; while my being drunkenly wanders in between states of ephemeral highs and lows.

At my lowest, exhaustion weighs heavy on my shoulders and makes room for its closest friend: hopelessness. Together, they wring my soul dry until I am unable to move.

I am always messing up.

In these moments, Your incandescent presence surrounds me with warmth. Words I often fail to remember faintly ring in assurance:

فاتقوا الله ما استطعتم

“So be mindful of God as best as you can…” (64:16).

This desire I have to seek perfection is due to my own soul being once in the very company of Perfection. However, perfection isn’t what You seek from me. It is an attribute only You encompass. What You value most is sincere and utmost striving and effort.

Despite my momentary departures, I now recognize that this cycle of fluctuation in heart sings of a love greater than anything else.

The Most Loving. Most Kind.

My Protecting Friend.

You teach me to never give up on myself or Your endless mercy.

unspoken

I long for your presence.
My feet guide me to you with ease,
anxious and wanting.
Your eyes are closed
Breathing in and out, lips moving
Whispering praises of God.
I sit and watch
I wish that you’d beckon me to sit beside you.
My arms yearn to wrap themselves around your worn shoulders.

Finally your voice rings
My breath halting,
“Why are you here?”
I answer stupidly, “I don’t know.”
I miss you. I want to be a kid again. I want us to talk with ease. I wish we would love one another openly.
You respond by reaching for the wooden prayer beads at your feet,
Your body turning away from me.

Heaviness floods what is left in my chest,
I fold my hands together awkwardly
Attempting to fill the spaces of my fingers myself.
I miss you. I want to be a kid again. I want us to talk with ease. I wish we would love one another openly.

I know you feel the same way.

light is a gift & a mercy

At a point in my life where I was feeling extremely low, I would sometimes go to the nearby masjid just to feel some sort of peace. I would go alone and attempt to avoid any interactions. I would try my best to slow down the negative thoughts that ran through my head. Doing this every so often would be the bit of comfort that I needed to urge me to continue on.

On one of the days I was there, a sister who I met for the first time greeted me with the warmest of smiles. She mentioned that I didn’t look at ease, and without further questioning me, she began chatting with me as though we were long-time friends.

Every word she spoke, and every story she shared with me instantly tugged at my heart. I couldn’t stop myself and ended up uncontrollably tearing up like a baby. It was as though my heart found her familiar, and finally opened up after so long.

This embarrassing moment of crying into a stranger’s arms and “randomly” bumping into her on various occasions after that (it was always whenever my heart needed it), was a constant reaffirmation to myself: that people truly cross your path for a reason, and you are sometimes given reminders at moments when you may either be looking for them or not – but in hindsight, when you need them most. And this is one of the biggest mercies.

When my sight becomes a bit foggy and someone with a light like her’s helps me to see His Light a little clearer, this is without a doubt a gift that I am a million times grateful for.

May we all become reflections of His Light for those around us, even for strangers we may speak to only briefly.

God shows His love and presence through His signs.

routine

she lay in bed and sighed,
“i need to get better.”
a list of things that needed to be done dragged on in her mind.
she tried her best to focus,
but instead pushed everything out of her thoughts.
it was easier.
she shut her eyes tightly and silently urged her body up.
again and again
and again.
nothing.
tears welled up in her eyes and hit the sheets. she broke.
a mountain of sadness loomed over her,
breathing suddenly became too difficult.
pieces of herself shattered and fell one by one.
she swallowed hard, trying to keep herself together.
the feeling of life felt faint.

emptiness presented itself as a permanent home,
and welcomed her in.
too often.
though it was cold,
the familiarity comforted her.
she lay there.

fire with no end

Broken.

There’s no other word to describe it. You were hesitant to claim that this was the truth at first, but it’s exactly how it looks. The words that kept tumbling out of her mouth were made of fire. It burned even before it touched you.

You know you’ve made mistakes. Plenty. But was there no room for softness?

To a point, you almost don’t exist. You found an asylum sitting in a mesh of green and only with the presence of your thoughts. You’re alone, and free to create a river that stretches as far as you can see.

Is this real? Her eyes; behind them is there a sort of sorrow? Maybe if you squinted hard enough you could see it. It must be there.

Did the horrors make her numb? She had been burnt too.

You realize the fire has become a cycle. And you know that it is possible for you to end it. But already too filled to the brim with the heaviness of words that you’ve been forced to carry; it is more so a hope.

You are a hypocrite in your own eyes. A smile so bright plastered on your face when the sun rises. But it always sets too soon.