You are still you, even when the sky renders you ‘half’-seeming, sometimes, and not entirely ‘whole’.
Spinning world. The ease with which, you find, it can dizzy you, tire out completely your very soul. And
maybe in five years (or less, or more) you will find yourself still there, yet overlooking some different world:
still the same one, but some things have certainly changed, haven’t they?
Or maybe in a decade or less, you will find yourself over there instead:
in that place you will necessarily meet before standing at the gates of Eternity: your earthly bed.
One small push, and into a whole new world we go.
But before that time, maybe, there are some things that you and I must do, some new people and places that we must come to know.
There are some undeniable elements of radiance in you. Maybe bringing them up and out will require an excavation of sorts, but I have complete faith in you;
with certainty, I do. Even in every single wrong turn you have ever taken; in every single ‘blunder’ you have ever made.
Far from home, as you have been. Trying and trying.
Still, do not fret too much. No more. I think it’s completely okay; wherever you are going, it will all be understood retrospectively, at some point, some day.
You make your own efforts; exert yourself. Tie your camels, and then remember to have hope, trust, faith. There is a fine balance between all this trying, and then it is this grand old waiting game.
Right now, it confuses, doesn’t it? It burns, then stagnates; it is tremendously elusive.
The truth is, your mind simply cannot fathom something it has never (yet) known. And though the imagination may seek to do exactly what it tends to — it cannot, at present, tell you exactly what.
Your state of mind finds itself in a rush, sometimes, doesn’t it? To get there. Where? Somewhere. That tyrannous abstract timeline of yours.
And to actually listen to all that others might have, to say about you. To worry about their receptions, perceptions. Those ones who put you on some unfair pedestal, and the ones who may do the exact opposite. Praise and criticism: people are excessive, biased, and unfair in both. Do they hold the keys to the full picture, anyway?
And, what? Is it they whom you exist for, Moon mine?
Divine Plan, I promise you. And the knowledge that you were fashioned by the very same supreme Being whom you pray to. So keep going; trust that the destinations are worth this extra mile.
Allah is closer to you than your own jugular vein is, and there is not a single tear that has fallen from your eye that He has not heard fall; accounted for.
So doubt the intentions of others, sometimes. Doubt the veracity of their words, but of Divine mercy, at least, always be sure.
It is He who cures; who, even better than you, at present, are able to: understands your hurt.
“Indeed, I am near,” He tells you, while you are struggling to emerge, a little seedling being brought forth, right through all this dirt.
And come, the rain will, too, won’t she? See, even if you can’t quite say what it looks like just yet, grow towards pure light, I so hope, will you.
It honestly matters not what others see or hear of it — or don’t. But always, at least, “To thine own self, be true.” [W.S]
And so, be there for yourself. In all your own colours, every single one. Maybe those seven or so years of mostly-greys will only be preparatory, for gliding steps towards a whole different experience. New knowledge, a new place.
And Jannah. For some people, such a place is already promised.
Another thing that is promised: that the life of this world gets intensely hard, at times. To each, their own individualised set of tests. And it will all tear at your soul, and at times, you will fall. Some of those moments, alone, when it feels like nothing but the entire sky is pushing you down. Have faith in those moments, too.
The word for trials, tribulations, and obstacles, in Islam is ‘Fitnah’. Imagery-wise, based on the process of separating gold from its ores. But first, a necessary melting process. It may threaten to tear you down to your very core. And here, I think, something, perhaps, quietly shines.
Perhaps they will be seven harder years, marred by all those thoughts and such. Same old silences, absences, aggressions. But be still. And know.
Then, perhaps, seven easier ones. This is what life does: it works in cycles, it ebbs and flows. And, dear Moon,
Maybe you cannot put words to it all now. There is seemingly no preciseness at all, not here. These current experiences of ours. No fences with which to neatly encase everything that has happened. But I can promise you this much: it is with purpose — all of it.
When Moosa (AS)’s mother lay her baby son into that basket atop that river, it had been her heart that bore the brunt of that pain. An entire heart made “empty”. And it was Allah who had then mended it for her. Brought it all back together; everything in place.
And it was Allah who brought you, dear Moon, into being. And the sun. Conception, and life. Everything necessary to bring us here, and to keep us going. As well as everything that we share this planet with. It is not at all beyond our Creator to change things completely, for you. And every ‘Fitnah’ that you experience is with noble reason; without a doubt, this much is true. Jannah is reserved for those of mankind who will choose to, and struggle to, become Pure Gold, at the end of it all.
And, yes, it can sometimes get mighty hard. Seemingly impossible. All these things that it feels like nobody else will ever understand.
Just know that, even in darkness, your light still sings, dear Moon. Some will hear your songs; they understand. The ways of its ebbs, and all of its flows. And they have complete faith in you.
So doubt that things have been that ‘good’ thus far. If you so wish, doubt this well.
But do not doubt in hope. In all the good stuff that is yet to come. In the hard bits that you will, Insha Allah, get right through.
Doubt most things about yourself, sometimes, but do not doubt that I believe in you.
The clock is ticking now. It always has been. So, with due knowledge of all that has taken place, do remember, do forget.
And worry not too much for whenever night, once more, begins to set.
No more. Shed old skins, farewells and hellos, and on new adventures, allow yourself to freely embark.
For is it not true that you have always loved the stars too fondly, to ever again be afraid of the dark?
Sadia Ahmed J., 2020