(A poem dedicated to Allah)
Ya Allah, I am in a maze,
Walls rising high in a sorrowful haze.
This life I lead feels worn and wrong—
Is it illness that hums, or have I strayed too long?
Why don’t You talk to me, O Allah, why?
I know You speak in silence, but still I cry.
These questions burn within my chest,
And in Your stillness, I find unrest.
What happens, my Lord, when a lover yearns,
But silence is the only return?
Am I a servant who’s lost her place?
Still, I ache for even a glimpse of Your grace.
I whisper to You: I still love You,
Though my hands may falter, my heart is true.
Hope has left me in many lands,
But not in You—not in Your hands.
I’ve caused pain though I meant to heal,
Mistook my kindness for wounds too real.
I stand now where I can’t see light,
Yet still I search for You in this night.
When I was a child, Your love was near,
Pure, unshaken, without fear.
Woe to this world that clouds my view,
Of that simple, sacred love I knew.
If I betrayed You, forgive my thought—
I trusted You would save me, no matter what.
Is that wrong? Is that love naive?
Or the trembling hope of one who believes?
I wish I lived in the Prophet’s time,
Where mercy bloomed and hearts could climb.
He would have seen the storm in me,
And calmed it with his empathy.
Now the world is heavy, the people cold,
Even the wise feel worn and old.
They ask for light I cannot give,
For even I forget how to live.
Life and death—their veil so thin,
Each breath a struggle deep within.
When I reach for You, my health pulls back—
A chain, a wound, a shadowed track.
Is it this test that makes me fall?
This fragile body, this mortal wall?
I try, O Allah, I truly try—
But I stumble still, and wonder why.
Am I evil? Or just unwell?
In this silence, it's hard to tell.
What do You see when You see me?
A lost soul, or one who strives quietly?
Do You know me as bad—or good?
Or a girl still learning what she should?
Ya Allah, if You know my heart,
Then let that be where mercy starts.
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment