The Last Day

This follows a similar theme of a constant happening right now. In each life, be it the dunya (this life), yawm al akhir (the day of judgement), or the akhira itself (heaven or hell), there are laws that stay the same. This particular law says that the final destination of existence is not about what your ancestors or parents did. We are only responsible for our own actions. So when Allah says “yours is what you have earned,” it could be interpreted as Allah saying, “look, you could die at any time, and there is a beautiful return for you ahead if you are good. But if you die now, and you haven’t earned your keep, you don’t get to give a down payment or a loan for your house in Jannah. You either paid for it, or not. It’s not yours if you don’t decide to live by your need for it to be yours in a way that is acceptable to your Lord.” That should motivate you, because it means you now know that it’s actually in your hands. It reminds you of your agency that comes with the responsibility of living a wakeful life. You are of sound mind, and you hold a heart in your chest and a soul within that is capable of bettering itself.


Recalling Allah’s words in verse 14 of Al-Imran, Allah’s mercy is starkly clear, bright and soothing like sunlight on a breezy, cloudy summer’s day. Allah is reminding us of the obvious: we want things from life. We want enjoyment, peace and even excitement. We want to experience beauty, and feel strong and look good. We want to possess the best items and the most wonderful, blooming relationships. Men want wives and fancy modes of transport, women want husbands and all the world has to offer. Allah is reminding us that He created us, so yes, He knows. It is because of His decisions that we are that way! This is comforting and so freeing because it means He understands our need to be happy and how happy we can be even more than we do. He has shown us the way, and we’ll never run out of goodness because his grace and generosity is infinite and perfect in the time, and the nature of His blessings.

al imran 14

3:14. Beautified for people is the love of that which they desire – of women and sons, heaped-up sums of gold and silver, fine branded horses, and cattle and tilled land. That is the enjoyment of worldly life, but Allah has with Him the best return.

—Quran, Surah Al-Imran

When you maintain hope that Allah will generously reward you, it gets easier to abstain or moderate when required. When you know that you have a responsibility towards your own joyful afterlife and that there’s only one way to achieve it, your heart will grow fixated on your goal and it will get easier and you will start to enjoy the hard times. Not because they are easy, but because of the knowledge that there is something better beyond with your patience being rewarded and a close relationship with the most compassionate, beautiful and healing Being that is with you.

Scared to Be Brave

The bandage is removed

It is healed, the wound

Is gone

But the memory remains

The tears they have stopped their rain

And even as the sun, it shines

I keep thinking storms are all I own

That they are all that is mine


I think it’s time

I think I’ve been too scared to be brave

Too lost to think I have courage

To make a change

Well, maybe I’m not deranged

And this is how it can be 

Maybe I have never been

I think that I’m safe now 


Instead of preparing for the sky to cry again

It’s time

To let go

To remember 

Who I can be

To finally get to know

What the sky looks like

When it’s all over

It’s finally over

There’s no cloud cover 


And I can see it in the way

I’ve never felt at home

I can see it in the places

That used to carry pain

But now they’re empty

I can fill them with laughter

I can see their true splendor

I’m not handicapped 

By my own 

By my own doing

By my own 


Scared to be brave

And try something new

Scared that I have nothing left to face

Scared to see the change

Cause now I don’t have to be afraid

Cause now it’s okay to make mistakes

And that is the most terrifying thing


Scared to be brave

This is the fresh day

The ones that I couldn’t see 

They’ve come to meet me

And they love me


Friends I couldn’t make 

I’m even playing with my shadows 

Writing poetry for the sorrow

Cause now I can inspire

It’s all over

All the screams have faded

The quiet it is eerie 

The success it is uncanny

All is well 


My inner home is starting to come alive

With peace

And hope

And loyalty

Taking care of me

In the night the moon plays with me 

Until I fall asleep

With a light dream 

His light is with me

Allah’s Love so clear

I feel him near

Closer than veins.

All the Way

All the way into a place

It really couldn’t be a race

All the way

To my destination

All the way to my goal

I feel so fully whole


There is no hole

In what He gave

I don’t need to wait

Not for a single day

These words, they penetrate

My soul, break

Down the walls

Outside, around my heart


All the way into a place

Where it really couldn’t about race

All the way

To my final destination

All the way to my eternal goal

I feel so fulfilled and whole


What if I make a mistake

What if I start to regress

Forget Him in my distress

Neglect Him when I am blessed


Even if I cross the boundaries

Even if I take steps back on this journey

Even if I get stuck in my mind

Or even if I go far from gratitude

He will forgive

If I turn back

When I realize

What other way can I go, but to Him

When He is All-seeing, and I know?



All the way into a place

It really couldn’t be a race

All the way

To my destination

All the way to my goal

I feel so fully whole


Everybody falls sometimes

We cannot press rewind

But we can choose to replay


All the way into a place

Where it really couldn’t be about race

All the way

To my final destination

All the way to my eternal goal

I feel so fulfilled and whole


It isn’t about where you come from

Or who you were

It’s about who you choose to be




I don’t know when it happened. Maybe it was when the sun shined, its gaze falling on me, curious as a cat in the night as I quickly re-wrapped my headscarf after the wind had whipped it around my head. My mother had warned me about those flimsy pins. Nothing ever seemed to hold my veil down. The air deliciously enveloped me, caressing quieted speech to make way for more elegant words. It was for the rush of running down the street to catch the bus, for the will to catch light in between flowers in a photograph. It was the flimsy nature of every moment, how it seemed to slip like children’s slime through my feeble fingers before I could capture how it felt in my heart. And how the rain washed everything away like it never happened.

Yet when the puddles were jumped in and soon dried up to stop glimmering in intermittent sunlight, and the wet grass became lush fields abloom for farther than you could stretch your sight, it was hard to believe anything about reality except that it was by then, for the best.

The Unsheathed Rose

It is uncanny, the un-sheltered rose. Her inner world remains unsheathed, and yet her exterior, while separate, remains unfit to be changed. That inner world is full of harshness and deceit, maintaining the rose’s strong inclination to defeat and defense. The sad thing: it was all her imaginings. The world outside was thorny, she had decided, and yet she was the sharpest knife of them all. She did not use this blade to distribute fruit.

What can I say for a rose that never knew beauty, when she may just have had a great deal of her own, if only she were to allow it to come home?