Where did I go? A question I ask myself much often. Am I doing good? Is this my best? What dreams do I need to chase now?
I find myself in the voice of my favorite reciters. In a real life painting. Old songs & crazy new ones unlike me. Perfumes & food. I try to hold on to those, but they don’t last.
My corner in my masjid is gone.
That level of transparency is down.
The clouds & rain have changed my painting.
The songs have come to an end.
The food doesn’t taste the same.
That perfume is outdated, asking for it is to offend.
I still look for comfortable shoes. A bit more comfortable ones though; now that my feet are a bit older. They’ve been carrying my weight, & extra weights of my own doing; but they’re always hard to get.
Sleeping with one eye open is my expertise. Freaking out with the smallest noise is what I’m doing best. Scared, pale, & grounded with my broken wings.
I’m gathering my strength in facing this calamity. It’s tough. “I can do it” is my new lipstick.
I never really had a collection of lipsticks & never really tried to look different. It’s always been me, but this me is curled up in the corner with new fears.
Oh Allah, You’re my Strength.
You’re my Light, for an everlasting length.