My Story

 I threw out my back. And now I can't take care of my kids. But this story doesn't start with me trying to pick some shelves to place into the new bookcase I had just built. This story goes back to, well, I'm not sure. Not because throwing out my back messed with my memory, but because there isn't a particular moment when you can point out a specific blessing that started my story. It is infinitesimal. If we were to try to count His blessings, we would be unable to. Point blank.

So my story goes back to whenever Allah wants it to go back. What I do know is that the blessings I had and have are so numerous, there is no room for anger in this moment of painful weakness. As if we aren't always weak and in total need of Him, hah! We are always equally in need of Allah. That's why we say "nasta3een" in fatiha in our prayers every single day. Because we are in constant need of Him, and at every level and every scale. And He constantly gives us blessings, alhamdulillah.

Dearest One

I'd love to write a love letter to my Most beloved. I'd love to sing His praises as the words echo in the magnanimous mountains that He designed and ordered into existence. I'd love to revel in His light, one day, with His will. 

I love to love Him. The actual OG, i.e. The First. How incredible, astounding, unfathomable is His existence, His beauty, His power? 

If He were impatient, He would have snatched me a long time ago for all the sins I drown myself in, the ones I struggle with and the ones I don't work hard enough to ward off. How forgiving and patient is He? The Most! 

Can we just touch upon the fact that He exists despite all. Nothing harms Him or benefits Him. Nothing can compare to that. 

Not to mention how many prayers He has made me witness the answer to. I cannot imagine what He has in store for the answers I didn't recognize. 

It's the leeway for me. For real, like how many more chances will He give me? How many times will He allow me to live long enough to beg His forgiveness, when I even remember to ask for it, or when I even recognize my sins?

How great is He. Literal Lord of the worlds, not just earth. On top of all of this, He chose to honor us? 

{ وَلَقَدْ كَرَّمْنَا بَنِي آدَمَ وَحَمَلْنَاهُمْ فِي الْبَرِّ وَالْبَحْرِ وَرَزَقْنَاهُم مِّنَ الطَّيِّبَاتِ وَفَضَّلْنَاهُمْ عَلَىٰ كَثِيرٍ مِّمَّنْ خَلَقْنَا تَفْضِيلًا }

"Indeed, We have honored the children of Adam, carried them on land and sea, granted them good and lawful provisions, and privileged them far above many of Our creatures."

(Al-Israa:70)

Why? Why us? The angels even asked this question. Well, because He wanted to. He knows what we don't know. Alhamdullillah for having been created by Him, for Him, and that we will all go back to Him. 

You Are Not A Lone

 You are not alone. 

You are not the only one carrying those feelings, carrying that trauma, that pain. You are not the only one who tries to suppress the memories that have clouded your sunshine. You are not alone in seeking happiness, accompanied by that sadness. You are not alone in seeking happiness despite the grief. You are not the only one feeling lost in the gloom of the world's unceasing horrific aggressions, a creation turned on itself with a vengeance. 

Your anything isn't more embarrassing, nor is it the least important. You are worthy, not worthless, no matter who agrees with this statement. You are a work of The Divine, how can you not be precious? He could have easily chose not to have you in existence, but you are here. You are wanted. You are needed.

As for how you're feeling

It isn't so unique 

that it makes you a freak 

and it isn't exactly the same 

which means you're not just another sheep.

Your not a fraud, you mean well, for yourself and others. Don't be ashamed of your inners. The ones you don't like don't define you. They are your passage to breaking the walls towards a higher growth. 

Unyielding Love

It's the betrayal

It's the portrayal

Of me as a villain

With none of them willing

To save this unit from implosion

Devotion

To building

Unyielding love

Searching in the past

To see into the future

Things I could cast

I'm feeling so alone

So unlike myself

I reach into the past

To find an old piece of me

Ropes of Hopes

It's the grief that grows

It's the pain that shows

It's the feet that walk

It's The God that knows

It's the broken back

Sudden heart attack

It's the wings that fly

Rising out of cracks

Things they keep me sane

Holding on in vain

Hoping endlessly

For not of the same

Self-Worth and Illusion of Source

If you feel insignificant, it doesn't mean it's true. If you feel like you don't contribute to the world, it doesn't mean it's true. If others around you make you feel like you don't do much for your world, it doesn't mean it's true.

If you rely on others to show you or make you feel your own self-worth, you are waiting for a failing source of affirmation. Other humans are flawed. Many can't see the good in others unless it is spelled out for them. If you are the one who usually has to spell out the good in you so some others can see it and stop thinking ill of you, then the problem is those people, not you. You are worthy, you are lovable, you are worthy of love, no matter what your contributions are to your life or to anyone else's life. You don't have to wait for the feeble-minded to grow a spine and get new glasses to finally see for themselves, without being spoon-fed, the greatness that is within you. 

You are great. No matter how little you feel. You are important, needed, even if others make you feel your contributions are miniscule. They don't need to be able to see it, let alone affirm it for you. You are enough of an affirmation for yourself.

You are great. And God is Greatest. Turn to Him before and above all others. 

Intimation

 Intimidation is not a foreign experience

To me. It’s something I’ve grown up in

So it’s hard to make me feel delirious

With your macho boots that you’re steppin’

I’ve learned to both bob and weave 

And to occasionally take some hits

And I know if your securities were in a sieve

All that would be left would be tiny little bits

You wouldn’t know my worth if it hit you in the face 

I’m not here to teach you it, or anything at all

I’m here because I take up a lot of space 

And I won’t reduce myself because you feel small

I’d like to leave you with a simple lesson

That’ll maybe help you lower that arrogant chin

I want you to know that your poison

Won’t get within an inch of my skin