I am an Anglo-Moroccan Muslimah who loves languages, books, tea and Islam.
This here is a collection of all (read some of) my random musings and interesting finds.
Some days, I’m good. The sun is setting and the clouds are on fire, and it’s stunning, sublime. I suck in the air and let its coolness pierce me, I feel alive with the sense of my own insignificance - Ya Allah! The red bleeds into plum which bleeds into black and blue. Listen to the whisper of Jamal.
Other days, I wonder… Is that setting sun as melancholy for him as it is for me? I allow my mind to wander the wastelands, deep within. I never knew this side of the heart could feel so dark and ragged. Ya Latif…
I don’t linger long here. It still hurts and I grasp at the sun’s dying rays, longing to smooth those edges with warmth and hope.
Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.
And when it doesn’t I remind myself that that’s ok. It might be painful but pain isn’t always a bad thing. Let me learn through Jalal.
So whilst winter nights are long, remember the dawn will always come.
"Say: I seek refuge in the Lord of the Dawn."
P.S. Salam alaikum/Peace be upon you, new followers!
Not sure why you followed a half-dead blog. I’ve really been out of it the past couple of weeks.
Forgive. Forgive. Forgive.
I see you there, pulling along the heavy weight that is your self.
I see you trying to suck up the pain and hurt you feel at your perceived failings.
Don’t beat yourself up about it. Life is going on; it has and will continue to do so. Keep trying. Keep striving.
Do beat your self up though. Slay it with salawat.
Sure, ‘you’ keep slipping, stumbling along this path. Sure, ‘you’ thought this would be all sunshine, smiles and spiritual highs. Perhaps ‘you’ thought that they would help you along, that he would help you along. Good thing this isn’t about ‘you’ or ‘them’ or ‘him’.
Keep knocking at that door because those words are “the Opener of that which was closed”.
The skies are blue but there are storms within you. Lightning and thunder that shock and shudder your innermost being. It’s painful but you are growing, even if you feel you’re not.
But only by and with God’s grace.
Allahumma salli ‘ala Sayyidina Muhammad, al Fatihi lima ughliqa, wal Khatimi lima sabaq, Nassiril Haqqi bil Haqq, wal Hadi ila siraatikal mustaqeem, wa ‘ala aalihi haqqa qadrihi wa miqdarihil ‘adheem.
I’ve never done this before.
Stuck my neck out on the line.
Not for anyone.
It’s all too easy to end up heedless, headless.
I’ve never felt this before.
That little bird fluttering madly against my ribcage -
It sings a little louder when squeezed.
Until you can open the catch, it’ll be a bittersweet melody.
I’ve never said this before.
But I don’t care if you’re broken because
I want to gather those shards, taste
The blood and kiss each scar of gold.
He’s yours - half the beauty of the world -
But you’d blaspheme and say he was all.
Love and pain inextricably intertwined.
Oh, yes, these thorns hurt but, my God,
Just watch that rose bloom.
Feeling bad for being awol but I’m still getting used to using Tumblr on my phone.
It’s nuts how connected everything is in this one lil device… :-S
Listening to Yasiin Bey’s ‘The REcstatic' full blast on my headphones so naturally I can't hear anything. Laptop on my lap, sitting on the bed and all of a sudden, I feel shaking.
Mum’s on the other end of the bed and at first I was confused but when I look up, I see Mum’s laughing so hard on the phone to my uncle that she’s causing the mattress to literally jiggle.
I like seeing my mum laugh like that…
Not going. Not going. Not going. Not going. Not going. Not going. Not going.
No money. No money. No moneeeeeyyyyy.
The joys of juggling money issues.