Harud

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I was supposed to be coerced into liking Autumn before Winter, followed by Spring and then, ugh - Summer - neither of us liked the latter. You disappeared before sharing Autumn with me. Now every picture of Autumn everywhere I will see, will burn me like your Chinar trees in Harud.

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 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.

Demons of Their Past

All it took was a picture of you in baby blue and white.

It pierced through the cemented walls
The grave I thought was permanent, shattered open.
Rose back out Alexander the great,
Arousing the hairs on the back of everything alive
To stand up and scream
To brace themselves and shriek in agony
From unwelcome memories.
Go back to sleep please.
Go to Italy, Go back to Germany,
San Francisco, Brazil, Goa, Juhu,
Go where ever it is that love embraces you
And wear that ring proud
It shines so bright
As did the prospect of you and I once
But that was an embryo that was miscarried long ago.
The placenta has been laid down to rest
So now please let the lens of the other
Shoot you in your glamour in privacy
There is no room for this view I have of you
in my suggested feed, on the right, under a post,
or an invite of an add request from another brother.
Go away; I know you never wanted to
I pushed the doors closed and I left you screaming in the dark
But that darkness was all enveloping
And it was a salve that needed to be applied
The scrapes were blistering and the wound was deepening
The pain would never go away so the pill had to be gulped
And years later it seems the effects have begun wearing thing
So I turn to an empty page and scream into this empty night
And tell the song ringing in the background to truly fade away
For Where you are now is of no use to me.
The monsters only know how to run wild
And the torment of years ago needs to rest.
Crushing what was real and breathing
For I am not prepared to have to do it again.
I can’t. You can’t. We can’t.
It was never meant to be
So please take your baby blue and white
And leave my breath alone.
I need to let it all be faded.
No shadows. No etchings. Nothing.
The water will always haunt me
But that is also truly where I find
Some semblance of a salvation.
Ya Allah – You are The Effacer.
Please Cleanse me and Hold Me.
For you I walked away and I desperately
need You to Efface me and Love me!
Ameen.

Fake, Flaky, or Forgetful?

They speak to you as if they've never spoken to you before. You remember the room, the lighting, the questions, the laughter and everyone else who was present there each time you had met before. They leave you flummoxed. They keep doing it again and gain. You keep smiling through it each time and reintroduce yourself, when spoken to the next time (again). They leave you perplexed. Close the door? Walk away? Stop smiling? Perhaps just decide to be kind. Yes, again.

Mediocre

Leela; Where I Paused, Breathed, and Prayed

I sit here tonight, my last night here insha’Allah for the foreseeable future. Tears stream down my face, for it is not just tonight, but every night that I need to be more grateful. It has been ever more heavy on my heart where I feel that I am unable to express my gratitude to my Lord. I have moments of no emotion and thoughts, while I live my now – and my now, when I stop to think about it, is grand and splendid and everything rich. It is my blessing. It is my now. Am I making the most of it? Am I being grateful enough? Have I taken advantage of it as I was meant to? Has it given me peace and contentment? Am I looking deeper into in a now that is not any deeper than I have already reached? Why am I feeling like I am missing something? I ache from a fear that I may be doing something wrong? I deliberately am not. I consciously am trying to do all things right. I pray I am not wasting my grace. I pray I am doing justice with the share that I have been endowed with and blessed with. I am surrounded by splendor and majesty; in spirit and in manifest glory. I am in the middle of it. Every ounce of me, when it just stops and feels, overwhelms itself to tears. Tears seem to have become my expression of happiness, joy, reaction to beauty, sadness, responses to pain, brokenness, and everything else in between. Are tears going to be my salvation as I tread forward onto a shaken path, finding myself again? If nothing else, I pray my eternity will remove all doubt and shower me with a union of unparalleled peace and happiness. I want to be grateful for everything else until then. I pray my fallen grace never fails to get back up and say thanks. I pray my hope never bleeds out. I pray that the overwhelming questions go to sleep and wake up to answers that will stand sturdy, take my hand, and all will be alright. Insha’Allah. Oh Allah, please accept my thanks, for everything. For every moment and thing and person who helps me remember You more. Please bless them. I love You.

I Lived Another Day

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...''

Lonesome Thoughts

As she sat there traversing pages, she consoled her lonely heart; for that ear that could not hear, for that hand that could not hold, for that shoulder that could not be leaned against, for that person whose presence could not be shared… To find reason, to find a purpose, to find peace in sharing the beauty that can be and the beauty that is this life – for there can be only so much beauty that can be shared alone, supplicating to its Maker. He Himself put the need in her human body – and so to Him she turned and asked for Help. Oh Allah – make it permeate and reach to the core where it is most profoundly awaited – Your peace and contentment, through your gifts: the feeling of being whole – Ameen!

Waiting on Happiness?

Your heart bursts into innumerable pieces in happiness for the people who shared their news; Two very beautiful ones – a friend who got married after a long wait for ‘the one’, and another friend who had a baby girl. While you sit and cry out of joy for them – truly… deeply – you don’t know when that cry turns inward for yourself, bent upon focusing on things that you yourself never got. You appease your heart that Allah knows best, and perhaps your time is to be longer in length, more lengthy in wait, than what others your age went through – and with that reminder you wipe away your tears and smile wider for them in complete joy, for their happiness. May they be blessed with the best that this world has to offer and be carried to the best of the Final Abode too – Ameen. May my wait be accompanied by infinite strength to ride me through to the shores that are meant to be mine, and may my heart be content with it all – Ameen.

The Wait...

Agnes Obel - Just So : Lyrics

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Enticed by a glimmering hope you rise, out of the slumber you had been existing in, awoken to dreams anew. You dared, you waited, you fumbled, and you stood still while reality dawned. Crestfallen, you raised your eyes to the sky, you cried your heart out to He Who designs all things, you found solace in the peace His remembrance gave your heart, and you calmed down.

Peace… some peace had embraced your heart, soothed your mind, wiped away your tears, and promised you to wait some more before starting to dream again. There was still a lot that needed to be washed off and cleaned before those dreams could become a reality…

Perhaps.

La Hawla Wala Quwwata Illa Billah…
La Hawla Wala Quwwata Illa Billah…
La Hawla Wala Quwwata Illa Billah…

*La Hawla Wala Quwwata Illa Billah - There is no might nor power except the One God.

Away From The Hubbub

                                                         Listening and watching in silence

To all that's happening; she then sighs

Questioning herself to find a balance

To not respond in angry sarcasm

Others actions remain beyond her control

Managing emotions; crushing moans and groans

Adulation of things that will die

Eternity being mocked, as if a lie

Fusion of fashions, loud and aglow

Discussion of religion 

As if at a performance or a show

The clock keeps on ticking

Days on end keep slipping

Years roll into a decade

Where is it that she is headed?

Turning to the only Steady she knows

Throws herself into a bow on the floor

Supplicating for the gaps to fill

And not let her heart escape its till

Sanctimonious worship will get no one by

The soul has to join the heart as it cries

Reaching out to a seemingly oblivion

Allowing hope to sing and be ridden

On a glorious glimmering black stallion 

To a place that can only be God’s Haven…

Insha’Allah – Ameen.

Indeed My Lord Is With Me, He Will Guide Me

The Wind Of Change

The wind has been here. It has come and gone many times, sweeping away with it the joys and pains of our lives. Poignant memories remain; some that we fondly hold on to with our very lives, while others that we quickly sweep under a rug hoping for someone else to come clean away – for us to never have to ever be reminded of them again.

Just Like That...

Safia

She walks in beauty; in sheer elegance, whispered poignance,

In utter command, her emotions in check,

The smile on her face, her glistening eyes;

surely they hold back so much more than a heart can imagine,

those lips that upwards turn, sporting mirth;

surely they hold back dialogue 

that perhaps the heart solemnly withholds,

She truly inspires with her reminiscent attire;

that bun, that beautiful simple chain, and ever so light make up,

it show cased her beauty - inside out,

her very gesture as she showed up to attend

and share in the happiness of her hosts, 

despite her own immense riveting loss -

Oh so much strength! Oh so perfectly cultured! (masha'Allah)

Surely they must be proud while they rest before the Yawn Al Qiyamah? (insha'Allah)

For they have indeed raised a beautiful daughter! (masha'Allah)

May Allah swt bless her with the best of emaan and health

as she takes care of her family; her siblings, her all...

May they all live the best that this duniya has to offer,

and get the ultimate best in the Hereafter too...

~ Ameen. 

*Safia \s(a)-

fia\ as a girl's name is a variant of Safiyah (Arabic, Hindi, Swahili), and the meaning of Safia is "friend; pure".

Grief

It’s one of those things that every human goes through in their own way; each moment - deep, surrounded by the sorrow of memories that flood you. There are those who speak their heart out, face the people concerned, and talk about it, ask about it. There are those who silently pray from afar, transfixed in the news of their loss, unable to physically do anything to help. There are those, who try facing the people, do little to help in matters on hand because someone else already seems to be handling it, and so they stay on the sidelines, struggling to find the right words, wishing not to add to the burden by asking too much and making the people repeat the stories of their pain, of how it happened, what’s happening now, etc. praying from a distance, ever ready to do anything asked if need be. But what remains a constant in each situation of people, is the pain. Whether someone was close, or family, or a friend, or an acquaintance… everyone’s pain IS pain. Perhaps the different ways of expressing it (or the lack of ability to express it at all) may not be agreed upon by everyone culturally, religiously… but the expression and reaction is ultimately for God to know… for our duas and supplications are sent out to him. Those who are able to, will get their feelings across to the families in some way shape or form… but it won’t be until many more weeks from the time of when it all happened, that they might remember and actually respond to your having been there at the time… Regardless of the myriads


Suffer in silence… withdrawn into a quiet stupor.
Suffer in silence… morbid thoughts of a moment over.
Suffer in silence… vulgar words in memory spoken.
Suffer in silence… people many yet people absent.
Suffer in silence… incensed thoughts emotions awaken.
Suffer in silence… until tomorrows glimpse of a new horizon

Gone And Remained

They came and
lingered amidst the fray

Only, so soon to be departed.
The heart and mind
are still recovering from this blow.
May their tests ahead by
made easy and smooth,
and their children
in the wake of this nightmare
have grace beyond imaginable,
cocooned by an abundance

of mercy from The Infinite;
To help them get back up on their feet,
be embalmed in Sabr
and walk with the strength
of Him by their side
through all and everything that lies ahead...

insha'Allah,
~Ameen, Ya Rabb Alameen~

‘O Allah, forgive our living and our dead, those present and those absent, our young and our old, our males and our females.  O Allah, whom amongst us You keep alive, then let such a life be upon Islam, and whom amongst us You take unto Yourself, then let such a death be upon faith.  O Allah, do not deprive us of his reward and do not let us stray after him.’ (*149)

‘Verily to Allah, belongs what He took and to Him belongs what He gave, and everything with Him has an appointed time...' (*154)

‘May Allah magnify your reward, make better your solace and forgive your deceased.’ (*154)

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]