It's been a very tiring week for me. I've been bombarded with unwanted questions and it feels like i've been shot with problems from different angles. Maybe, this is a sign. One of the consequences of leaving Him. I should go back to Him because in the end, we shall return to Him. I'm sorry.

Ramadan opens door of mercy each year
reconciling all our hearts on goodness, generosity and forgiveness.

We are all clusters of sins awaiting repentance
holding on to a book bonded with threads of faith
Encrusted with pristine words and reminders from Allah (swt)

When our heads hung low,
And our eyes dripped tears and despair
The pillars of Islam held us back up.
They are the backbone of our lives.

Ramadan leaves us with empty stomachs during the day
But with that our tongues are heavy with thikr
And our hearts are soft from patience.

I pray that we find the right doors to open, and that we remain among the faithful believers.

Ramadan Kareem to my muslim followers x

Je deteste pas le monde, ni les personnes
Quand je regarde la vie, je pense de Dieu
Il sait pourquoi, et je ne sais pas
Alors, mon debut est avec Il. Et ma fin est avec Il.
Et toujours, je tourne une nouvelle page

I can feel your
enemy eyes gazing down on me
with that fake friendly smile
as you distress and shake your head
at the way I dress

I can feel your
hateful words slap my cheeks
as you complain about the
way our sisters are sheep
to the west

I can feel your utmost
disgust as you utter
astaghfirullah as if I am
not worthy to be part of
the ummah

Yet I can feel the way
Allah is gentle and forgiving
as I prostrate
and cry for his mercy

He never lets me down
even though my brothers and sisters
may have

I was born into a
Hall of wooden pews and
Sundays full of crinkling satin bows,
Confronted by a stern-faced woman with iron grey curls
Tighter than her heart.
I remember very little of those
Sunday rooms, mazes of correct answers and long half-hours
I was raised through new pews,
Carpeted halls and
Long hours with brown haired ladies
A book 1200 pages thick of
Tradition and my mother's folded hands as I peek
From under my bowed head,
Earning sharp reprimands from white  robed men.

I saw them,
Of course,
Walking in Dearborn, Detroit, Ann Arbor, far away lands of unrest, but
They weren't in little, white, homogenous Chelsea, Michigan,
Of course,
Not them.
Yet I marveled at soft amber skin
And deep chocolate eyes full of
More galaxies than I ever knew existed,
Split solar systems of hushed mosques and mosaics that I was never
Allowed to see.

But I loved it.

My room became a tiny haven,
My dusty mirror showing a soft headscarf wrapped carefully,
Gently,
Over flyaway frizz,
Green cotton matching hazel eyes.
I knew not the complexities,
So I faked them,
Simply kneeling because I could not
Remember all the beautiful
Dances of prostration to praise another name of God.
Foreign syllables try to roll from my strangely
English tongue; I never realized how
Odd and stiff my born language is,
Too full of contradictions and
Double entendres, strict lines of black and white
Inky blood spilled on snowy sheets of paper,
Ancient characters telling me how to live my life.
As far as I'm concerned,
Allah (swt) and God are just two names
For the same deity,
And I simply preferred
Fajr
Dhuhr
'Asr
Maghrib
'Isha
Over the Lord's Prayer and
Hail Mary.
My rosary beads were quiet patches of rakaahs
Though I could not pronounce any of the words.

I kept secrets too heavy to lift into the
Dark recesses of my mental hiding-holes
Instead dwelling in discrepancies and dealing in bargains.
Half of me fit perfectly to each,
A blasphemous picture of the ****** Mary
Transposed to the cover of a Qur'an
I had never opened, like the
Guilt-edged pages of Bibles growing weary
Under my desk.
Two irreconcilable pieces of religion,
Broken images of stained glass crowns
That can't be formed into the intricate patterns of an
"Exotic" heart.
So for today I pack away my rakaahs and prostrations in a wooden box,
And take up my cross again.
Someday, though,
My heart will chase itself through the five pillars,
And I will shake out the green cotton,
Wrapping it carefully over a flyaway soul.

Date written:  November/10th/13

29, the age I arrived to this land, saying goodbye to all I knew like the back of my hand.
A single ******, so fresh, so naive- all so different to what I once perceived
My eyes glistened at this new found galore, and just in the airport, there was soon to be more.
My body was aching from the twelve hour flight, but my mind was renewed, yet my muscles still tight.
As time passed on, I knew their ways, and seeing them now, they all look astray.
My heart wanted to run, to escape from these lies and go back to the north , but my mind began to reel in to the things that led to demise, yet I continued to go forth.
The pain was real and the temptation was strong, then came a point I didn’t know right from wrong.
I came from a place that poor and needy, but I’d rather be there than here; where everyone is thankless and greedy.
The pureness of their hearts was more than the change in their hands, and the love for Allah and Rasool (PBUH) was stronger than owning every piece of land.
Here I see their wallets are overflowing with false means, while hoarding wealth and bottomless wants are bursting at the seams.
I was bathed in this filth and dirt, everywhere I went it was there,
but my conscience  kept my head on straight and I continued my daily prayers.
It was my choice (and still is now) to mark my path I know how.
What my eyes once saw may have once been appealing, but the orders sent down were those I obeyed, and everyday I found myself kneeling.
I’m at a crossroads, (or rather I was at the time) but the journey was planned out before the choice was mine.
The Quran kept me going as my native tongue translated, when I read the penmanship and beauty of these words, it seems as if all pain has faded,.
“Faith is what stays in your heart and displays in your act” is a saying far better than charts and facts.
Those words speak to me, as they have to many before- whether changing lives or teaching more. And through this battle, the demons tried to break in, but the Sunnah, Hadith and Quran shielded me from sin.