Walking a tightrope

I keep falling

Getting back on


Getting back on


Drag me back and forth

When do I take the reins

When do I break free from this fear

Living in limbo

Waiting for a whole life to be determined

In one moment

Is driving me mad

What has God planned

When will I find out

And how will I react?


If He says no

Will you be able to float above the rip current?

Find beauty in hell

Find peace in the chaos

Find tranquility in the maddening

Find purpose in a prison


And if He says yes

Will you be able to fulfill your potential?

To push on when your eyes are closing

To focus on the letters, the words, the pages,

The lives of another generation

Without being dragged down by worry and fatigue?

Will there be fulfillment to be found?


If all looks dark, it’s just the chemicals

Just wait, and this too shall pass

Thy God doth undertake

To guide the future as He has the past



You’re the only One who’s ever given me peace
أنت السلام ومنك السلام
Youre the only One who’s ever given me complete, tearful happiness
The rest is just shadows
just shadows

So why do I bury my head in the sand
every time this sadness overtakes me
instead of running to You
يا الصمد
تباركت ذا الجلال والإكرام


This soul is
from a universe
bigger and wider
than the sea
and all that happens

All that happens
was written from a thousand years

All that happens
weighs ever more in the miizaan
for, or against, for, or against

Piling hasanaat or sayyi’aat
like sand grains
into mountains
into eternity

So breathe.
وذكر فإن الذكرى تنفع المؤمنين
Udhkur, ya rouhi.
This too, shall pass
though it take one-hundred years.


What brought this
sudden breeze, this
accidental windfall, this
unexpected immersion into

This feeling of life returning
after long illness and death?

Let me see
so if someone asks me later
I can tell them.

Imaan is caused by ‘ibadah
which is caused by motivation
which is caused by imaan, isn’t it?

Where did I jump into the circle?

Sub’haan Allah


Why does the mu’adhan sound
so very sad tonight

as if he is mourning the dead

as if he could see inside my head?

Is there anything but tragedy in this life?
Is not even joy and laughter but a mockery of pain?

If I get everything I want here
what’s the point of jannah?

Is it possible to burn with desire
to see God’s face, and nothing else?

And if it were, how differently would I live?
Perhaps the mu’adhan would make me smile.

Or perhaps I’m imagining all this
because the winter maghreb is so early.


The men here are
hard like rocks.

Clash with them like the sea waves
and they’ll break you every time.

But one day you’ll wake up
and see how far they’ve receded.

I still feel the lines on my cheeks
where the tears have dried
and the cold on my skin
where stone met my falls

because I clash.

I wonder how many other women
are waves.