Poetry

I deeply desire to live in my creative best self but life keeps pushing me to kiss misery and scarcity time and again

How does a woman know that He is the one?

they asked “do you love her to death?”
i said “speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life”

• -mahmoud darwish

قالو: تموت بها حباً؟
قلت: ألا اذكروها على قبري لتحييني

https://youtu.be/gqGEauWWSYM?si=JZs9RmG2WcY0Yx3K

This nasheed's lyrics are truly poetic.

Tolkien captured my wanderlust perfectly. Weary feet but itchy feet. They need to move. Need to stick a pin in the globe and figure out the whither.

A poem by WB YEATS

If Walls Could Remember
The walls of my room know a version of me the world has never met.
They have watched me smile when my heart was breaking.
They have listened to conversations I could never have with anyone else.
They have witnessed my sujood, my tears, my unanswered questions, and the moments I thought no one could see me.
They have watched my faith rise, my faith weaken, and my Rabb never stop calling me back.
How strange.
We spend so much of our lives trying to be understood by people, while the silent walls around us have carried our story without ever speaking a word.
If they could speak, they would not tell the world how perfect we looked.
They would tell the world how often Allah covered us when we had nothing to hide behind except His mercy.
Perhaps that is why the greatest comfort has never been that no one knows us.
It is that Allah does.
He knows every tear that never reached our cheeks. Every duaa that never left our lips. Every battle we fought in silence.
And despite knowing the parts of us we try to hide,
His door remains open.
Always.

Most days I wish I had never met you ‘cause then maybe I could sleep at night. I didn’t have to walk around with the knowledge that there’s someone like you out there.

Our chapter was only three pages, was it?
In those pages, I felt like I won and that there is some loss in that win.
Even my smile made me wonder in pain.
My breath got stuck in restlessness.
And the end of our story made me finally breathe.
I'm left wondering where the fire was in?
Maybe it was just an imagination

Love yourself.