Follow the One

Have you struggled like so? When enough was too much and too much not enough? When this said don't and that said go for it? The places you reached were not there yet and the places you still had to reach had long been gone. You put it in your mouth but there was nothing to chew on, and you kept chewing and chewing and chewing but there was nothing but bile in your throat and polluted air seeping silently into your lungs. Have you ever felt like running with the wind in your hair, everything passing you by, but when you look down at your feet your knees refuse to budge and your back is paralysed. When your arms were picking up the weight of the world but when you looked down at your hands they were blue and white, empty and cold. Do your veins play hide and seek with the eyes or does the needle easily pass through? Does the air feel too thin to breathe or is it too heavy that you feel suffocated? The hair on your head stands sometimes while you wish it stroked your back like silk, and hers lay in a tangled silky knotted mess when she tried to curl it up into curls that you thought were a mess. Was that the sound of someone casually walking into your heart or was that the door you had banged shut, being rattled and torn by all those you refused to let in; why do they cause you such stress, what is it that puts you under such inexplicable duress? The eyes keep looking at beauty while beauty its own tale keeps spinning on. It pays a visit to their doorstep, goes into all houses and surrenders itself to the horizons and valley of the world, but every time it hears you seek it in yourself it leaves the mirror blank and the heart distressed. Do you like the colour of all things around you? Do they tell you of wonders galore? Your ears listen to everyone speak but no one can hear the thud of voices that tingle and tangle within your minds silent screams. The mouth refuses to move and the tongue remains chained. The mouth begins to speak but the voice cannot exclaim. So follow the words of The One. Leave behind all else, and everyone. Many moons have risen and fallen all at the command of The One. Your sun and shade too will one day at His direction come; insha'Allah - Ameen.




* Inspired by Follow the Sun, by Caroline Pennel, from the movie To the Bone

Aspiring to not plead, but be offered...

The weary pendulum keeps swaying back and forth in between making a resolute decision one day and having debilitating questions foam back up to the point of drowning me on another. Words spoken keep coming back of their own accord; haunting me. It doesn't make sense for the one to have said such things, albeit in only a half attentive part sleepy state, but for one to simply disappear mid-throbbing-conversation...? It is a whole another ask of me to leave where one is not wanted. But, to leave where one was assured they are dearly wanted... this, this is an unkind thing to be asked to do.

'Are you trying to figure out how to do this, or are you precariously bordering on an unappetising form of stalking?'

Surely making dua'as for a person's well being absolves me or my actions of being saddled with a negative label. If only the road blocks would be removed, and the walls of silence pierced... Perhaps then some answers could be found to appease the roaring ravaged mind that is left in the wake of this storm. The soul refuses to back down and sit in silence. Amidst prayer it needs to also do all it can before it must accept failure and lay down to rest all it's arms, in order to find some semblance of peace.

''You should not have to plead, you deserve to be offered.'' This keeps playing back in my mind, over and over on repeat.

Inn Allaaha Ma'as Saabireen. Allahu Musta'an. Allahumma Antas Salaam.

''Allah is the Protector of those who believe. He brings them out from darkness into light.''
(Al-Quran 2:257)

''Oh Allah, place within my heart light, and upon my tongue light, and within my ears light, and within my eyes light, and place behind me light and in front of me light and above me light and beneath me light. O Allah, Bestow upon me light.''

Ameen.

The Interim Betwixt; Real or a Lie?

Were you a capricious whim, a fallacy?
Were you an embodiment of my wants and your wants?
Of your comings and goings should I not question your verity?
The chasms of my experience with such emotional feed
is a gaping proof of error of judgements borne of deprived needs.
Time is proof, Time is a salve, Time is testing,
Every second, every minute, every hour.
May the constant questioning of my own sanity
versus a beautiful patience and a belief in all things good,
Yet again, come and sing it's soothing rhyme
allowing the chants and motions to do a slow dance,
and let the heart beat in peace,
always at the behest of it's Maker Infinite.

The missing Rib?

The news keeps telling me there is unrest where you are... My mind thinks about the effects of that, alongside the effects of thoughts of you in my heart here, where it mysteriously pinches and bites. Physically, you nor I can see it. What hurts is knowing that right now in this I am alone. I can pray and find spiritual sanctuary, but my physical form aches to reach out and bridge this distance fast. It wants to walk unruffled, beside the havoc of the strung-out world on display, preciously held within the calm surreal black succour you offered. What you offered may live inside my head for however long it is meant to breathe, as only Allah swt Knows Best. What I beg for, screaming with my insides on fire in my agonising struggle alone, is that promised Mwaddah wa Rahmah, followed by a precious coolness of the eyes, and heart, and mind, and being, insha'Allah ta'Allah. I need more grace than what others see in me, or preach at me. On either ends of that measure I find myself lacking. Take me to him, Ya Allah, whose rib you fashioned me from. My bones wish to be reunited. My being wishes to find home in those arms. My head wishes to rest upon that chest. My heart wishes to hear the synonymous beat. My insides twist with wishes upon wishes not knowing whether this tide will throw itself upon my shore or recede apologetically like all other tides, never to return. One day my shore too will not be left dry. InshaAllah, Ameen.

Misunderstandings and Gaps

Sometimes we get so used to having conversations with ourselves that we forget how much gets lost when we don't actually speak all that was in our head to people. What was said out loud and what wasn't becomes a blur and misunderstands happen. Only compassion can heal such slips. Usually of a Divine kind. Us people seldom have such a big heart.

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.

Mediocre

Escapism...

''... She wished to blow a bubble... nice, big and roomy... all around herself, and get it to be pushed off into the atmosphere, where it would float above and away from all things and people that she knew. In that bubble, she'd be allowed to be herself, and that would be okay with the bubble... and nothing else would ever matter again...''

Mayhem - Death

*Picture taken from the internet: Source unknown


With dirt across their face in streaks
Grimy hands and cracked feet
Shirts strewn with blood and…

Doesn’t your heart shriek
Don’t your eyes weep
They are desperate for you and I
to do something
before all and everything
that we knew to be life
is destroyed by their
bomb and gunfire speak
Age is not even a number
as their bodies are piled high
One across another
Two on top of their mother
brother sister aunty uncle
They’re all holding hands
of aged worried grandparents
stooped, then maligned and buried
beneath a ravaged son and a father
who holds his new born bundle
blown to pieces before he could
even kiss its cheek
The unborn fetus that couldn’t
even make it into this world
before it was wrenched
into uncountable pieces of a family
drenched and buried in their own blood
Lineages wiped out before humanities eyes
Havoc is hurled about
And all its creations lie asunder

Oh Lord! Please send your Mercy?

With dirt across his face
Grimy hands, cracked feet
Tears in streaks upon streaks
Tattered clothes strewn with blood!

Let's Look Into Our Mirrors?

Flawed beings demanding perfection?
Ostentatious – Ridiculous – Preposterous!
Blind to the reflections of imperfections
That stare them in their face
Focused on counting
what’s not right in others
Rejecting reality and living facades
Portraying the decay of their heart
Exhibiting grotesque beliefs
that reside in a cavity of
culturally misconstrued
culturally maligned
and culturally misguided
utter nonsensical paradigms
that failed themselves to begin with
and are now being cast
upon you!
Yes, upon you and I!

Empty and Loud

It’s 1015 pm 

on a weekend night,

In solitary silence I type -

Annoyed by the frivolity of

all that surrounds me.

Texture-less fabrics

Spread out before me,

Reminders of ubiquitous nothings,

Jarring and ringing in my ears,

Reminding me of my insignificance

In everything.

You Turned Into a Monster...

Sometimes you’re pushed to the point when any random sound or action may snap you and take you to a place that never was you, and normally never will be you. You refuse to have anything to do with this person that you may in that moment turn into. This snap is unreal. You become this ugly ferocious monster whom you would never interact with, ever… How do you stop yourself from slipping into that mask? You’re going to be held responsible, no matter what your excuses for not knowing yourself in that moment be. So, stop. Breathe. Audhubillahi min ashaytaan irajeem – lahawla wala quwwata ill billa – and save urself.

A Place Somewhere Near 'You'

You know the pain I live; I’m speaking to You, my Maker. The Fashioner of it all; start to finish, and all the in betweens’. I am imploring, beseeching, continuously crushing this heart’s screeching – the pain sometimes feels like it will explode – but You stop it from crumbling, and therefore to You it continues to turn to… Please my Lord suspend these needs and abate their transient hollowness. Make this heart, mind, body, and soul strong enough for the lessons that are intertwined in all that happens - To and Fro. The ride gets too rough, and only You are the balance that can keep it steady or afloat. Please my Lord extend your Hold – for my hands are outstretched waiting, and You’re my only constant Hope – from dawn to midnight, my only companion through the sun, rain, dust storms and star lights. This lonesome walk, rejected reputation desperately needs Your Assurance – That the sea will part and a way will show; That the fire will cool and the heat will be no more; That I will get out of the well alive; That the Whale will blow me out of its belly; And that on Your ship I will survive the storm of this life as it carries me to a shore of Permanence somewhere near You – where there will be no pain, no expectations, no heartache, no loneliness no more – insha’Allah; Ameen.

Indeed My Lord Is With Me, He Will Guide Me

Asleep?

All around me rests; as it sleeps in the quite of the night, I sit outside under a very still pink sky... Everything around me underlines the silence of the night... Everything seems to be at a contrasting parallel to what I have allowed myself to be watching from the 'safety' of my home, these past couple of screaming loud relentlessly moving, yet un-moving hours... This pink night sky is as if a reflection of all the blood that is being shed in the crimes against humanity... The silence itself as if mourning all the loss... A silence before a storm from the Lord of all mankind, perhaps? The soul yearns and hopes, for His commanding stroke to manifest Itself and spread It's desperately called out for Mercy, upon all those pining with their arms outstretched to the skies, with their bodies and families, their unborn fetuses and children, forsaken in the hope of a salvation from their Maker -

Ya Lateef, Ya Hakeem, Ya Qawiyy, Ya Rahman, Ya Raheem, Ya Malik, Ya Jabbar, Ya Furqan, Al Awwal, Al Akhir, Al Qayyum, Al Qareeb...

... I wonder if my pink sky will soon join me, as my eyes cry for the people of Palestine, for the oppressed and needy everywhere... As we - all of humanity under the same sky - bleed under oppression, unhelped, unheard... To death, number after number, multiplying into a nameless heartless statistic quoted to me sometime tomorrow, when the rested have awaken from their quite sleeps...
Allahu musta'an

''Innalillahi wainnailaihi rajioon''

Verbal Blows

Is there no softness to your being?
Not a kind word,
Not a kind look,
Nothing?
Be not so absorbed in yourself!
Please?
You are supposed to be precious.
To her, to me, to us.
Why make it so difficult?
We beg for ‘your’ forgiveness
from the One Who Forgives
But not everyone else will.
And this shall remain a constant fear
In our hearts that pray
For you to soften,
Your words to soften,
Your being to soften…
‘Ya Muqallib Al-Quloob
Oh Turner of hearts,
Please make all that is hard in him
soft.’
Ameen.

The Problem...

The problem with most of us as we grow older, is that we truly believe we are the ones who will change a person whom others have failed to change. We believe this deep in our hearts, and firmly resolve to get to it; changing the person/people. This can be seen in a picture where the woman believes ‘she’ will be the one to change the man (who all this while has refused to budge in his ways, many before her have similarly tried, lost, and walked out of the picture). The same goes for children with their parents. What’s even more striking is that when I personally think about this latter situation - I remember going through all the hopes and aspirations of bringing about a change in my house, its people - which my siblings (a decade and more my junior), now aspire to do so too. Perhaps my intentions came later, age wise, than do theirs – but the fact remains that I have tread the path that they are on, but sadly they will refuse to learn through my experiences because they insist on travelling the roads themselves. This is sad because most of us will insist on travelling the road ourselves, no matter the amount of advice that exists out there to help steer us away from expected failure.

I’ve noticed the pattern. I was once that age too. I believed in things being a certain way. I believed in home being a certain way, parents being a certain way, but then… life happened. How?

I tried.

I failed.

I tried again.

I failed again…

And this went on for some time, until some years into this repetitive dysfunctional twist, a mist of sorts began to clear. I realized, after all these trials and errors, that home was where the heart was… I realized that it wasn’t just an adage, but reality. It was simply inexplicable – it had to be tried. I resented the place I wanted to change, I resented the people who refused to change (in their ways, their mindsets) stubbornly unrelenting – and so I imagined a home elsewhere.

Where?

Away from here is all I knew then. But every time I ventured into an ‘away’, I was sorely lost, and wishing to return home. To the very place where the heart would not be at rest.

I guess that is the problem. The heart. It is fickle and easily swerved. It is quite easily tempered by the whims and fancies that the Shaytan and the Shaya’ateen scatter around it. It latches on quite easily, not letting go unless really worked upon from the inside. But for us to be successful in warding it off from the inside, we have to remain firm in our belief that all that is happening is just as it was meant to be, and in it being so, there is good. I must let go of everything else and just try and seek that good; attempt to understand it, and accept it whole heartedly. And despite finding ourselves having found that belief, we remain susceptible to losing it every now and then. We cave in to the misery that wishes to surface, and bemoan our current stand point; forgetting that this very now is where we are supposed to be, meant to be standing in. It is how we find a way out of it, without the resentment, that remains a Herculian task that has not yet been mastered. And so we find ourselves setting off to try and change those around us, in hopes of finding solace and peace with their change. But the solace and peace, in my opinion now, does not come from a change in those around us. I think it comes from changing our own perspective on things, and by being in control of how we respond to the unrelenting forces around us. And through it all, we need to be stronger and firmer in our faith. Insha’Allah, things will fall into place and He shall say Be; and it shall.

~ May He (swt) make this journey easy for us all, may He provide us with the right companion (as He did to Moses (AS)), may He keep us staunch in our faith always, may He forever guide us, show us the Light, keep us under His shade, forgive us our blights, slights, and pick us up to take us through all our falls, rendering us to be ever stronger, ever firmer in our path to Him and His Promises… Ameen!

Cleansing

With a pencil in my hand, on a paper I begin this scrawl... a paper from a book which was until a recent past, singed with memoirs of yester-years; replete with grave mistakes and painful choices. I sit here today, having removed proof of most of my errors. Why I had stored memories away, to begin with, baffled me when I undertook the task of reading things which seemed to have been forgotten with time. Letters which in their time evoked streams of joy, anticipation, fear... seemed to have lost their marvel when I sat reading them, before I ripped them up - piece by piece - and calmly piled them into a trash bag; stuffing bags through their seams by the time every piece was removed. I was left clutching on to scattered bits of memories, as they had been stirred into an awakening unplanned and unpleasant - I coerced myself and hurried to lay them all to rest as I prayed upon my Lord for whom I had forsaken everything and by Whose Grace I had been living since; saved from any more grief that could be perceived by a wanting soul - of then and now. I seem to find myself at a fork in the road, where I hope to lay the dead to rest and finally find a peace permanent. Part of me wishes that I could go back to a better part of me that existed then and merge it with the better part of me that exists today... Alas, this is not to be, for if wishes were horses then beggars would surely ride. With this adage in mind, I hope the best part of me is not entirely lost, but remains somewhere preciously safe... patiently waiting to be properly found a final time around... insha'Allah; Ameen!

Inna mai'ya rabbi sa yahdeen... [Indeed, with me is My Lord... He will guide me through - Al Quran 26:62]

Her Existence

It's a projection.                                                                     
Standing aside, 
Moving along, 
Drifting around, 
Strung out, and... 
Seldom adorned.

It's a shadow.

Of yesterdays gone,

When things were deeply mourned,

Happiness was ostentatiously celebrated,

Where matters were imminently important,

and not all worth feeling for, stood mostly dissipated.

It's a blandness.

Wishful respites,
Existing despite,
Thankful abounds,
For that, and...
All decreed.

You, Whom I Used To Know...

What is the meaning of this, ''Here today... Gone tomorrow...''

Why are you set on repeat? Teaching a new story each time,

Lessons replete; some unpalatable, some in retrospect meant to be a treat,

What is the meaning of this, ''A part of me, you - yet later - no more?''

Why are you transient; with your lessons of stubborn impermanence!

Oh, the new you's, the old few's - the heart, perplexedly, doth wonder...

* Dedicated to friendships... The song, 'cos the chorus sat well with the sentiment - the rest, enjoyable nevertheless too :D