Saturday, 8 November 2014


Tell me where it is supposed to hurt
On which wound should my tears sting
If all my veins are lined with hypocrisy
Maybe I sold my soul too cheap
Took a faith as fleeting
Can't even pinpoint where
Did it all go wrong ?

I sit with my old self on rainy days
One foot in the grave , a heart filled with dust
Of shame

Its strange

Maybe my mind is fire
That my limbs will taste

Perhaps your words made knots in my fate

Tell me where do I begin
Crave a silence too deep for a body to withstand
Bound to that which isn't sacrificed
Sacrificed along with that which isn't bound

Forgive me for misendeavors
The vilified victim , the victimized villain
The lines blur to no discernible end

It's strange

Tell me something I do not know -
But make me understand


  1. What an intriguing piece, beautiful as always MashaAllah. Your poetry makes me self's like we're sharing this mutual feeling that something is amiss, that we've strayed somehow, that we're finding ourselves further distanced from our Lord, but we can't seem to, though we long to, pinpoint exactly what is wrong.
    Might I add, on a lighter note, that I think of you when it rains and I'm outside, my abaya tinged with water droplets despite the umbrella poised above my head. Yes indeed, we worry not about our hairstyles being ruined, but we still aren't fans of drenched outer garments, are we:)
    Keep writing sis. <3

  2. May Allah save you from that which numbs you, and may He replace it with that which inspires and comforts you. Aameen.