Life is a period (relatively long and relatively short)
of continued striving. It is a thing of comedy, and
it is a thing of tragedy.
I know that, on some nights, there are certain things that mercilessly rip your heart apart, without you ever asking them to.
And I know how you hide. It’s so hard to ‘open up’ when, in the past, doing so has led to your spirit being thrown onto the ground, stomped on, thrown to hungry wolves,
over and over again.
It’s okay if you need some more time to heal; I’ll wait for you here while you do.
There’s a nice sunflower outside I want to try and sketch. It is undeniable, and
it reminds me of you.
How real is the smile on your face, and how often is it so?
How frequently do you forget who you truly are, when your heart feels numb and its love feels this low?
It feels quite like we are alone in this world, doesn’t it? Like it is terribly easy to become this cold;
To reach for anything that might shield our souls from the elements – walls, perhaps; to be a little quieter, more defensive, less bold.
It feels like forever missing something you can’t quite put your finger on, and nothing else on Earth can ever fill its space.
You cry and you mourn and yet nothing comes. How is the thing to know it is being called,
If you can’t even recall its name, not even the first letter, not even at all.
Yes, you are simultaneously blooming and you are fading, here.
We are on this Earth like mere travellers. But oh, the things we will see; the stories we will tell.
And there is a great promise of Something Else beyond here, a beckon to an ocean through vessel of seashell.
All life, on a spinning planet, inches forward every hour. And someday, there will be no hours left.
Perhaps on your bad days, we could sit here together and attempt to imagine what timelessness might be like. Someday we will exist in that state, you know.
Nothing from the past really matters (except, of course, everything. It has all led us here, it is everything that might have helped us to grow.)
Some days, I am so scared and I feel like almost everything is out of reach, beyond me.
Going through the motions, almost unreal; is there any other way to be?
I think you are wonderful. Nobody else can quite do the whole ‘you’ thing the way you do:
Your funny tales, catchphrases, forever doing the opposite of what you’ve been told.
I think the ends of your smile sing of beauty, your hair of genius, your heart of gold.
And I think we must be brave here. Nobody knows of the pain that floods your entire mind from time to time;
few know of the terrible notions you were made to believe, and which have replayed themselves in your head over and over in your mind.
See, on a bodily wound, one may kneel and place a bandage, grace and hope.
But the soul, you see, tends to sing of a different kind of pain.
Dull, amorphous, insidious. There would appear to be no escaping it.
What do we do? We tie our camels and we trust Allah. Helplessness is not in our vocabularies: indeed, the help of your Lord is near.
You have to make a choice. You are the custodian of this life, and when you take certain chances, good things will appear.
Roses really bloom when you choose to really trust God; you will witness your Du’as unfurl, one by one.
Today, we forget everything that we have known,
And we remember all that we have learned.
You know, I have always wondered if there will come a time in our lives when we will be able to say that “we made it.”
Good things will come; be patient. But, no: here in Life, things do not stay still, and time is always in a bit of a hurry.
We humans were not designed for black and white, nor do we find ourselves having been programmed by binary.
Humanness is amorphous, colours, often not neat.
It does not really matter where you’re from. You might want to keep the good and forget the bad – a justified price.
It will all be of value, but it will not matter – not when you take that first step into Jannah – to Paradise.
Nobody will ever know you
The way only your Creator can do.
People do not create Truth, and so it is okay if people look right through your eyes without understanding you.
God Himself chose to create you: a thing of beauty, wonderful. The entire world could end up hating you and still it would not matter:
You are not better than anybody, and nobody at all is better than you –
That is, not except by piety and good action.
Maybe I do not know you personally, but I do so believe in you.
May the loudness, for you, quieten. May your journey through be filled with little lantern Du’as that all come true
one by one. Even in the belly of a whale; at the bottom of a well
Allah surely loves the one who puts their trust in Him;
so, dear friend, tonight we tie our camels, and through Time, Allah will tell.
Sadia Ahmed, 2020
“We are surrounded by all of these lies and people who talk too much.”
– Ed Sheeran