When Everything Aches

Every part of me feels broken, inside out. Heal all of us who are broken, Ya Allah. Only You Know how. Protect us from all that is evil around us. Only You Know what we need saving from. Ameen Ya Rabb Al Ameen.

Charades of the Work Force

Ostentatious

the behavior of humans

Depressingly sad

how deep corruption seethes

Volatile

their vicious ammunition

Discord abound

it breeds into creeds

Blasphemous

their promises of things being fair

Malicious disparity

is all they amongst colleagues fruitlessly bear

Disgusting

how matters stand from this vantage point

And Allah swt Always Knows Best.

This Was Not Her

This was not her; the mess, the anger, the reactions, the words, the feelings. This was what she was not equipped to deal with. Her head would speak to her, while her tongue went on and did as the surrounding induced. Her mind only won when on the mat she let her tears wash away her guilt, recriminations, anger, hurt, sorrow and everything else that was not welcome in the form of negativity. While those around her continued to live, they continued to be - she continued to see, and continued to plead. The overflow of pain, confusion, discord, mayhem and disrespect was no more overwhelming - it had crossed thresholds of patience some time ago, and was barely managing to keep adrift in the ocean of foreign deprivation she found herself immersed in. Swimming was something she had never been taught, and no amount of self help books were coming handy anymore. Something was deeply and surely amiss, for patience used to be the one thing she prided herself in being able to practice, and that too now was a lost blessing. With it's loss, she had lost herself (the self she had been familiar with), and knew not how to coerce back this lost self to a state of acceptance. The present unfamiliar person that existed in a shell did not understand anyone, and with every passing day was beginning to stop caring about love in all forms that it could exist. The only love that was still surviving was the love for her Maker, and if it were not for that One Familiar ground, she would perhaps have stopped existing courtesy the riot that roared in her head for the most part of her every day off late. This was not her; the mess, the anger, the reactions, the words, the feelings. This was what she was not equipped to deal with.

~ In prayer she then went back to throw herself.

An Elusive Escape

Far away from your normal; this is where the mind wishes to go to. Free from the craziness that refuses to stop spurting out at you in mad bursts which make little sense - if at all. Mundane every days that are infused with moments demanding outrageous amounts of patience, creep out from every nook and cranny, which the naked eye cannot even begin to fathom... when you least expect it - BAM!

You breathe in...
You breathe out...

You egg yourself on, to not bend over, not react, but to go on, staggering yet standing tall - as tall as tall can in such circumstances let you get away with. Where does one turn to in order to soak up on a reserve of energy and patience that at times like such seems alarmingly dwindling? Turn one's heart back up to their Maker Sublime and beg for rations that can help cope with such obtuse requirements, for otherwise functioning human aid seems like its knees are diligently being knocked at. So much so, that it could cave thus, any moment now - time is ticking on by in her head, like a set of dynamites waiting to combust at the harkening of just one defining click.

To smithereens all shall come to rest.

The Seemingly Impenetrable Door

The lock on the door was tricky. Seemed like it budged only to reveal that it was actually jammed. Innately faulty or an engineering defect? One would wonder but would fail to arrive at an acceptable mortally conjured verdict. Sometimes this doorway allowed a tiny peak of light from the other side, viewed for long enough to get one to pine for what it could get a glimpse of, but before the eyes and heart could have a fill of it - it was jarred back tight into its mysterious but age accustomed grooves of familiarity ensuring that the latch was back in place rendering all passage through - surely impossible!

All is as it should be? Perhaps only time can tell. But how impossible could a walk through a door be? How solid or impenetrable could a lock be? Why was this step beyond the a-fore crossed, seeming to become more and more of a tedium? On counting, realisation weighed heavy and divulged thus; the number of diligent attempts to walk past the threshold were on a statistically recorded high, but the breaths which enabled them forward, were definitely not just low in power but also noticeably limited.

One day, to see the other side of the door remained a yearning which silently hoped to be fulfilled in its one blessed lifetime...

InshaAllah, Ameen.