Sweetness in falling back

Doesn’t giving up sound sweet

The idea of being left idle

As you idealise the thought of falling off your feet 

Letting life flow 

Let me be closed minded for a little while

Let me sleep

Let me drown deep 

With my eyes closed 

And my heart at silent slow beats

Giving up

Letting go

For just a second

Naahh time to run the coffee maker cuz this girl has got to pass her exams

April fools. Lol



Oh Allah I used to cry to you all the time
Until you dried my tears away
but then just as my eyes became dry
so did my heart
because when I’d moisten my eyes with my tears
so would my heart remain moist

and despite the tears of sadness
I’d find through the rivers
cooling streams
giving my reluctance security
giving my shyness integrity

yet, now I’m treading on my own path

using my imagination to lay down bricks

that make their turns on rifts


Oh Lord, turn these scorched roads

into meandering runoffs

that lead to secret gardens

and profused abodes

before my heart completely hardens

and becomes spitefully zesty with nothing more than

ugly scoffs



So I pray to my bewildernment
as I sit hear with my hands up high
begging for my eyes to never dry
lest these amateur paths my hands pry

crumble nigh without knowing why



Jug of Milk

Adjacent vulnerability welling up my throat.

I saw in a full  clear jug of milk

fresh grass pile up and float

It was the mourning of my past

and my heart’s ill hope

that something for his future might just slope

This was the fresh grass, like a fresh cut

that polluted my jug

for my mourning and my cut would always rise up fresh

and ruin my morning drink

my afternoon drink

and my evening drink

and my night drink

to the point- that I would not think.

the sadness in my desires

for wholesome love to light my fires

spoiled my every drink

depriving me of pure happiness

and the pure willingness

to focus on God

thus leaving me flawed


Just like the grass in my milk




Angels, I whisper back

Oh angels, I’ve given in

Your guiding whispers were never misguiding

It was me who always chose my own decisions

You were always right, voice of Iman.

I wish it were easier to abide by what you’d say

But you’d only speak once- or I’d only hear you once- for my own distractions and fervor would blur your song away.

Without you, my heart would be dead

and leave no goodness to plan ahead

If only I can take your hand when you lend it

and accept the offer to see what you see

But I guess it’s a matter of a leap of faith

from my own stubborn emotions

to actually make the will to further into your world

of patience and peace

It’s my lack of courage

to escape from my confusion-

afraid to face my very own delusion,

my ego,

my arrogance.


So angels, I’ve given in

because all the same- it never made a difference in the pain

except that with you I actually had something to gain!

I’ve come to your doors

to give you my message

that I actually

want to listen this time.





Iman- Islamic term for faith and belief




Looking for the Unborn

Why dwell on the past when the future guarantees your self-worth

Why live on moments that are not different than death

It’s happened and it’s gone

It’s forever away

and nothing more than a figment

or a nightmare

The reason is, you are never alone.

Those who are like you are hiding just the same

Living in the past

of shackles and thorns, bleeding away

distraught and cold

they hope to find the sunshine

in something already rotting

They dig to see if there may be something left,


A plea that it may regain the light and bud into a new life

But everyone knows, the past is like the afterlife.

Just death and memories

Instead search for respite, come out of your graves

begin your quest for inner peace

there’s no telling what fortunes lie ahead

except that you are in control of the piece of flesh in your chest

that creates the line between you and your past






The chandelier of my heart


Today, I pondered about Taqwa.  I was praying to Allah swt to increase it and help my be stable on it. To stay strong with it.  With that, I began wondering, are there times that I absolutely do not have Taqwa?  I realized I do have taqwa every now and then, but most of the time, I bury it under the blackness of my sins, mishaps, and fog of misclarity on things.

When a difficulty in my life comes in, my little nafs inside my heart frantically digs out  Taqwa, hangs it up like a chandelier and lights it with the light of iman. Thus enlightening my vision to make decisions and think accordingly to surah fatiha. (ihdina assiraatal mustaqeem)

And so my chandelier is lit, and I can see all that lies inside my heart. Or at least whatever is apparent amongst the buried memories, aspirations, secrets, prayers, personal contracts claiming I won’t do this again, promisesand past accounts of repentance.

My nafs looks to see what it can dig out to fit the puzzle in decision making. Unfortunately, the nafs is entirely self-centered and selfish.  It only desires what benefits it NOW.  Immaturity is my nafs’ bestfriend, because Immaturity is kind of obsessed with emotions and feelings. Inexperience is lazy and  is always sleeping in the back, but my nafs knows how to take advantage of it. It uses it as an excuse to shape the puzzle in such a way so that I depend on surprises and earn the currency of new experience, whether it be good or bad. Cuz that’s what nafs does.  It bribes Inexperience with the currency of Experience so it can meal on fudge brownie sundaes and be fat, lazy, and hide under the bed from Courage.

Now that my hearts lit with Iman and Taqwa is hanging tight and securely, nafs ravages through my heart, looking for the perfect pieces that make it seem like the decision is 100% for the akhira, despite whatever instant gratification or schemes it’s trying to get by.  However, it’s always a challenge for Nafs because the light that Iman gives doesn’t show what black lights show.  Black lights show the clever whispers scribed in invisible ink by the ever so well-meaning shaytan.

Iman highlights all that is good, guiding me to what I’ve learned before and how to take control of my emotions, steer them into the right direction and make the niyyat of serving Allah swt.

My nafs however, cherry picks through the different options and tries to trick me into taking the rigid path rather than the straight path.  Sometimes it’s a war inside that vesicle and Courage and Hope come to the rescue.  They stun nafs with the image of Jannah just enough to get by with making the perfect decision, helping my win.

I have no idea on how I’m going with this and I feel like I can go on and on because these daily occurrences are always so unique and rich and always provide new seeds for growth and self-development.


Taqwa is arabic for god-consciousness and love and humility towards Him

Iman- adamant faith in God for His justice, love, recompense, 
and the Unseen that is under His control.  
It's something so overbearing that it affects everything you do 
and becomes your goal, your conscience, and your purpose.

Nafs- conscience, ego