Course, of it

It is not the breaking of the dawn, nor is it the setting of the sun that marks. It is the soul's decision to change course.

Prepared

God has drenched me in love, sending me heart after heart, with warming words and lifting praise. Maybe to prepare me for the storm that is coming ahead.

break

and then my heart asks for a poem.

but i have lost the ability to write.

i may have squeezed every last ounce of creativity in me. all my emotions have been spattered on paper, and not a single drop is left to paint with.

so my heart will just have to wait until words are my friend again.

for now, my words and i are taking a break from seeing each other.

Face of Truth

Rose was far too beautiful to be dragged down into the gallows of faithlessness. God stepped in and removed her from her carnal existence and into reality. This is why we live. We are souls trotting along in temporary vessels.

Zenith

Heart revs motor like ill seeks donor like drunk wants sober like young wants older. Hold her.

Strength

She sat by the window. The hollow creases of her face mapping her permanent sorrow. It was a sunny day, in the literal sense. Gloom is everlasting to the one with a life of pain.

She was a lost beauty. Her eyes echoed the stolen art that once radiated from her skin. Hardship is a hard ship to sail on, especially after forty years of despair.

Negative diction always portrays pain accurately. For her, no words can be a mirror to the torture her soul underwent. It was her history, not to be recorded nor relayed. It was her history, witnessed only by God.

They told her she was weak, that her suffering was her choice, and that she could break free at any moment. They understood her inside as defined by their perception of her outside. If she were a book, they judged her by the cover. They knew nothing. If they were slapped in the face with her reality, they would combust. Which is why she hid it. Her oppression was more than enough to handle.

Wisdom

I met a friend, more like a blessing in human form, at the last convention. She is one of the most brilliant humans to grace this earth, and the extraordinary thing about her is she barely knows it. These are her thoughts on life. Please read with an open mind, and apply her wisdom to wherever it can.


May Allah continue to bless and protect her.


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Leena!

in reading your last comment, an array of thoughts rushed through my head. Your words, thoughts, experiences, perspectives, all of it….made sense and I needed it so much. It got me thinking, thinking about me….them…society…humanity.

i honestly think we're getting lost in the depth of the most soul-crushing, spirit draining, capitalist-goal-aspiring bull****-rewarding cultures of all time. and I mean that in the most sincerely hyperbolized, dejectedly disillusioned way i can express myself... With life waiting at the depths of our minds. and much work to be done tomorrow morning. Take my words with a grain of salt. Or a mound of sugar to coat the wounds this slice may open. Take them with a blindfold. I don't care. as long as you take them…

but honestly. I'm sick of chasing ghosts. I'm sick of waking up and pretending that tomorrow's gonna be different because I work harder. Sleep less. Spend more. Eat less. Dress differently. Cop this. Drop that. It's all a game. It's called society. You expend all of your energy outside of you. Outside of self, of spirit, of soul, of mind, and body and original thought and you transfer all of your beautiful energy into the want, desire, ambition, and passion of achieving that-----yes that----that thing waaaay over there. Which you can neither define nor justify. Call it social mobility. Call it a better life for those you love. Call it success. Call it taking advantage of the opportunities they never had. Call it love or loss or eventual self-realization. Call it whatever you will, but ask yourself this: What happens if we never make it there. Fill in the blanks with all of the fruitless things you are pursuing and ask yourself what you can do without.Tomorrow, do without them.

Now ask yourself the things worth pursuing. Like your education, and your community service, and your job, your friendships, your relationships and ask how you can do it in a more fulfilling way. In a way that pleases God and sets your heart (Qalb) at ease. Because I swear it's possible. We just haven't discovered it yet.

I don't mean to write on and on… I don't even mean to form words or sentence. None of that. I only meant to call into question what we daily ignore (and what you helped me realize). That we are spiritual creatures. That our soul needs to eat just as much as our stomachs. That we are deprived. Depraved. We binge instead on the puke of a bulimic society---retching up its most wretched, it's most degenerate, most morally bankrupt, most consciously filthy dogmas to feed us: Africa's starving children. And still we binge, hungrily and hastily, on garbage and waste and pop culture. We feast on false idols. On MTV, and gossip, and whining; choking our senses with the ambitions to amass as much wealth and friends and lovers and attention and accolades as one humanly can without keeling over from the weight of it all. It's then that the spirit sputters. And the body falters. And beauty recedes and withers away into the recesses of our bowels. It's then we realize the decay and decomposition of our most beautiful possessions. That quiet voice that tells you to do something right… or the plans you made with friends who you can't let down by waiting? Yeah... that's your spirit. And it's probably time you listened.

There's a reason they call it soulfood. Prayer. Dua. Worship. Worthship. Reflection. Poetry. Its all soulfood. And we need it badly. We need to gorge on soulfood and feed our starving soul. After all, we're only here long enough to bear witness to our own deeds. To testify against ourselves on the day when no questions need be asked.

Be a friend. Love a child. Feed the homeless. Feed your soul:)


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Low Jab

He asked me if he could photoshop my picture, adding hair on my covered head, just to see what I looked like. He was itching. My reaction was to instruct him to look around at the other women in the room. I explained that my hair type falls under the same category of many of those women's hair.

Selling yourself short, displaying your precious goods, and treating your existence as if you are a piece of meat is quite repetitive, and frankly, I'm bored.

Each of us looks like someone. No one human has a brand new feature in them that cannot be found in anyone else. We all look alike. To cover up and deemphasize the much valued carnal aspect of ourselves forces people to see and draws their attention to the only unique, inimitable, un-reproducible and most valuable part of our existence: our souls.

No pun intended, but don't be shallow when assessing what I truly look like, because the reality of me is walking around unclothed.



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