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Nana Bee Scribes

Islam. Life. Cosmos

Silent Approvals

 

 

Salat is a means of communicating with Allah. As Muslims, it is expected d that salat is observed 5 times a day; asides the voluntary salat like nawafil (extra prayer after certain obligatory prayers), tahajjud (predawn/midnight prayer observed best in the third part of the night) and a few other prayers offered to seek Allah’s counsel, to ask Allah for particular needs e.t.c. It is important to note, however, that the compulsory salat which are offered 5 times a day are to be observed at their appropriate “times.”

There are certain conditions to salat that one would learn alongside the art of observing the salat. Though a lot just pray, without the required practice that should be ascribed to the prayer, it is worthy of note that Salat is a tool for communicating and linking with Allah. In other words, your heart should feel more than your body should bend, kneel and succumb to the act of worship while you are doing it. You shouldn’t feel as blank as you were or same as you felt before embarking on the Salat journey.

As I observed my nawafil this afternoon with Maryam observing hers by my side, I also prepared my mind to observe Salatu Dhuhr with her after our individual rounds of nawafil. We could pray the obligatory salat together as a congregation because there was no male present in the house. She finished her nawafil before me and then instead of sitting to wait for me to finish mine so we could observe dhuhr together, she got up and made another round of prayers.

I knew we should pray together but thought she changed her mind. It was not until I remembered that the voluntary prayers to be made before Salatu Dhuhr could be four rakaat that I figured she wasn’t making the actual salat yet. She was offering two extra rakaat to sum up her nawafil to four. I made two more rounds of nawafil myself and then, there she was on the identical prayer rug we were both using, awaiting my closure for my nawafil so we could pray Salatu Dhuhr together.

Without exchanging words, we stood up to pray together with our feet touching and our heart in the direction of our creator. Together, we encouraged each other in good by observing the voluntary and later the obligatory salat in unity, without much more than “Silent Approvals.”

Alhamdulillah for Islam.

Aisha Harun (Nana bee)

 

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Not Guilty as charged

Hit this Link for the Post that inspired mine. https://ibrofoto.wordpress.com/2016/08/12/behind-the-bars/

Read this then.

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“…even when the nights are long, the sun would always rise. We are now in a storm but i am starting to see clear skies, coz there is hope. There is always hope!…..”.

 

The lines above are words of the poet Amal Ahmad Albaz in a poem titled “Ya Balady.” I have used it as an opening for this post as “ibrofoto” sought of ended his posts with similar words. I am supposed to be sharing this post with just a few lines, but i think it deserves a sequel. It is one issue that no one thinks of or about, until he/she has someone in that situation, perhaps, himself!

I was in the middle of a story when I received the link for the post “behind the bars” which made me drift from the book I was engrossed in a while. As I read through the lines of the post, I found a hint of familiarity between the story I was reading and the content of the blog post. To keep you off the dark dear reader, the story I was reading is titled “Cell One.”

“Cell One” is a cell in a prison in Enugu, Nigeria, where ‘toughened criminals’- according to the Police Officers in charge – are kept. A boy was caught amongst some other cult members and was moved along with them to prison. Though innocent, he was at the right place at the wrong time. To clear your doubt, he wasn’t moved to “Cell One.” None of them was. They however, all knew about this mysterious Cell and the many tortures that took place in it.

All in all, an old man, of about seventy years of age, was soon brought to the prison, and kept with the other criminals in the same cell as the boy who was wrongly arrested. The seventy year old convicted even though “not guilty as charged” was in the prison because the police couldn’t locate his ‘run-away’ son, whom the man himself had not seen for the past four months! Imagine the irrationality. Not seeing your child in a long while and being arrested for the crimes of that same missing child. Of what use was the man to the prison if not to be put in the mouth of death itself. This man did not do anything and has no information to assist the police for further investigations but was still held custody.

Unable to bear the credulous treatment the old man was getting besides himself, the innocent boy spoke out on behalf of the man and dared the policemen. In the end, his reward for yelling at officers and standing up for a fellow prison inmate was “Cell One”, the place for top criminals.

____________________________________

Life is a place where the sales of “hope” is the only affordable commodity. No one can buy freedom except for the “filthy” rich; if you are rich and “clean”, then sorry bro. you still don’t meet the requirements. We have now been corrupted by forces beyond the ability of our innocence. No one can afford to be innocent anymore. The prison: a place to soften criminals – psychologically, and give to them a sense of remorse and conviction to change for the better has now become a place where sane minded people are rendered insane. It’s like a place for the letter O and figure 0 to be kept altogether, for you can barely tell the difference between a suspect and a criminal in the actual sense of it.

In retrospect, Dr. Josephine Obiadulu Okei-Odumakin, a woman rights activist, who has been arrested severally and been detained for about 17 times was in the University of Ilorin Auditorium, on the 24TH of May 2016, to address us students on the theme “Gender Equality: A might or reality” struck me like a true fighter, which she indeed is. She was enthusiastic and astonishing with her words and a mere glance at her would tell you how much of an emblem of freedom she is. The clips displayed on the screen while she made her speech to the congregation of students, was what actually left me completely overwhelmed. This woman, to my wonderment, was in one of the slides, being dragged by the police in what seemed like a black lorry. She was of course arrested for coming out in the open to fight for the rights of her fellow country people and there she was, being dragged like a criminal. But then, isn’t that the crime of our times? Isn’t speaking up for the oppressed and blurting the truth, no matter how bitter, the biggest of crimes of today? But again, there is always a silver lining in the dark clouds. Goodness would never leave you no matter how many times you get dragged in the mud for it.

Prisons are not the den of oppressors as we think. You must know that tons of innocent civilians are tortured daily for crimes yet to be committed. No one gets an alert for an accident before its occurrence. No one would have foreseen he would be convicted for the crime he did not commit. To be more explicit, you wouldn’t know who is next to fall victim to these oppressors punishing the oppressed and claiming it is vis-à-vis. There are Criminals for sure (in the actual sense of it), but then, there are Criminals with no crime to account for.

You may ignore this for it isn’t your business, but remember those who would stand up for you if tomorrow, God forbids, you are wrongly convicted. You need not go miles to rebuke the crimes of our time. All you need do is to start with yourself and then your community. Good is good even if no one is doing it.

May we not fall prey to traps not meant for us. Ameen.

 

 

Depression – A fast way to die.

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A lady passed out right in front of me two days ago. Believe me it was like a joke! I had never experienced such and for an instance, I thought it was an act. Like for real? …. Alhamdulillah she was revived but with the intervention of a doctor. We couldn’t get to wake her up so we zoomed her to the nearest clinic.
No one knew why that happened as at then. We just could conclude that she had been all gloomy lately. She wouldn’t talk much and she snapped at her caller(s) over the phone. In addition, I thought she was suffering from “depression.”
___________________________
When you are depressed, you are nowhere. If you are someone like myself, then you are even in oblivion; a place beyond nowhere. As a result, I can’t be depressed. Like No way! Depression makes me lose my mind and I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything. So I got a way out, I don’t let it happen.
_________________________
After she was back to life, a friend tried to get words out of her. In the end, her problem was actually linked to depression. I guessed right! And you know what that problem she had was? You don’t wanna know, trust me.

There are so many things that could get you depressed. A sad day, a failed plan,an unsuccessful activity, a heartbreak, an important person in your life who never gets to understand you matter how hard you try to earn their understanding, the list is endless! But you know what? It’s totally unacceptable to think that wealth you covet, that baby you so adore, that (wo)man you are bottomlessly heads over heels with, that family you cherish so much, would be a part of your life forever. It’s good to be optimistic and assured but hey! Heartbreaks don’t come with notifications. Take it slow on yourself. Be happy but know that “no condi is permanent”. If the girl in the picture below committed suicide because her boyfriend dumped her for her friend (which is what the news implies), then what should the people in her life do to express/suppress their distress. What would her mother do to get back her precious daughter?

Life is a moment. Do not live it dying a meaningless death. You don’t even have to commit suicide to die. All you need to die is to be permanently heart broken, refusing to heal and move on with your beautiful life. And there you are; a goner!

You are special, and if whomsoever you expect to realize how special you are and treat you so doesn’t, then it’s their loss. Not yours!

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My “Shoki” fever toppled!

It’s quite pathetic that the circumstance that envelope the youth of today are usually triggered by trends set by people who are of a particular status in the society. Gone are the days whereby an individual’s daily activities- norms, values, behaviors were determined by the origin he is from; culturally, ‘socially’ or religiously. Talking about the influence an individual gets socially, it may be his immediate social environment, or how he is socially influenced on a national or universal level (which used to be a rare occurrence.) Today, however, a youth’s steps, dress sense and speech are usually in one way or the other in the direction of the western ideology. One of these ways include “music and dance style”.

My problem with the generally accepted dance styles – which of course isn’t usually as a result of any form of con-censorship amongst the youth, started with “shoki.” As it was getting wide spread amongst the Nigerian youths, I heard about the dance but never saw a vivid display of it. The first time I eventually saw a person do the shoki dance I got irritated. The guy was displaying to his friends by standing on a spot, teetering and doing a slow bounce like a spring expanding and contracting. He also covered one eye as he gyrated, which was what actually crowned my irritation. What sort of a dance would require that you cover an eye?!

As Muslims, we have been given prior information by the Prophet (pbuh) about “dajjal”, the anti-christ. Virtually everyone, including non Muslims know that he is one eyed and that one of the logo of the “illumati” is to display an eye in solitary to their satanic gods (as the case may be.) If ‘shoki’ requires that one eye be covered, then it only refers to one thing; the way of the shayateen. I was able to convince only a few people with this point of mine while I felt a high sense of repulsion towards this dance. Majority never thought it meant anything. To them, it was just for the fun and amusement. As ‘shoki’ was dwindling amongst the Nigerian youth, there was yet another coming on the way; the ‘dab’dance!

Each dance style adopted in the society almost always originate from a musician via a musical video. The likes of “yahoozeh, azonto, etigi e.t.c. were functions of musical videos later taken up by the youth. The dab dance wasn’t an exception. For me, the olamide song “oya dab!” was the first I heard of it. I saw styles of it on Instagram but later saw a vivid display of it in an episode on jenifa’s diary.

Musicians are people whose lifestyles are different from ours as Muslims. They drink, sometimes smoke, go to club and flirt with women. A layman would naturally just dance to their tunes without any consideration but am average Muslim is and should be far from a layman. If being a Muslim means that you pray five times a day, fast and try to avoid certain things regarded as prohibited in the Quran, then your mind should gravitate you towards the details of whatsoever trend you are falling victim of. No musician gets his inspiration from the Quran. They don’t go to the places they go to help you, their followers get closer to Allah. They only do what they do to divert you to their path; the path of shaytan.

“And of mankind is he who purchases idle talks (I.e. music, singing, e.t.c.) to mislead (men) from the path of Allah, the verses of the Qur’an) by way of mockery. For such there will be a humiliating torment (in the Hell-fire)” Suratu Luqman verse 6.

I once heard a story about a sheikh who was a part of a team making ruqya for a particular person not long ago. This victim at some point started talking, but it was obvious it was the demon in him talking through him. He said certain things that the sheikh had never heard of, nor understand until years later when he heard the same words in a song by one of the local Yoruba musicians. This story had been on my mind since I heard it and it only confirmed what I already conceived in mind; the inspiration for music is from shaytan.”

The dab dance didn’t bother me much as i never thought it would be widespread like the other dance styles. It seemed boring and un-attractive but i was wrong. I also did not think Muslims would adopt the insane dance until I saw a tweet with the photo of certain northern girls in hijab dabbing! What craze? This dance seemed rather classless but they do it with so much commitment that you’d think it earns some score for them.

For the sake of avoiding claims of proselytizing, I wouldn’t request that anyone stops this, rather I would ask if the person knows why (s)he is dabbing and the story behind it.

Dab is said to have originated from Atlanta hip-hop scenes and also from individuals who snort cocaine discreetly from their elbow, acting as though they were sniffing. Whatever the origin of dab is, asides the aforementioned, it is certainly not in association to Islam nor the acts of any of our predecessors, not alone the prophet. In an hadith, the prophet instated that “whoever acts like a set of people is one of them.”

Furthermore, one of the signs of the last hour is the approach of the Anti-christ which could be closer than we may think it is. He would have followers; which is already an attestation today as many are preparing his welcome party, doing all sorts of dance styles involving covering one of the eyes in one way or the other, of which dab is not an exception. The question to be curled from this is: are you preparing a welcome party for the Anti-christ too? If not, why do you dab then?! To follow the crowd or follow the Rasul?

Aisha Harun (Nana bee)
July, 2016

Accept my Hug.

 

Ramadhan has been amazing so far. For me, it’s been yet another struggle reminding me that nothing comes easy; an effort is always required.

On day 15, I already made up my mind to keep the flow of the diary on till it’s time for i’tikhaf. But as Allah is the best planner, things didn’t go as I planned. To leave trash for lawma as my brother would sometimes say, I found myself compiling each day in my head, never beyond.

On the 18th of Ramadhan, I made a post but I couldn’t finish up. And then on the 19th, same repeated itself. There have been lessons that I really wanted to transmit i.e. day 17 from which I learnt the pertinence of a hug to your fellow Muslim, friend or family; especially when they are going through difficult times.

Here is a bit of the gist:
The su elections had just ended and a colleague emerged as the vice president. We were not particularly friends as we were in different departments but we always exchange tesleem and certain pleasantries. As I left the masjid that afternoon to go back to class, I saw her discussing with some people and so i decided to congratulate her. I offered her my hand but she hugged me instead. Subhanallah! It was that kind of hug that tells you to not withdraw from the other part until the person let’s loose. She hugged me so tight, rocking a bit and I hugged her back. She said a few words and expressed her gratitude as I eased off her embrace and left. I couldn’t help but conclude that she hadn’t been able to ease the surge that washed through her since the announcement that she emerged winner.

Later that evening, we had an event at the school stadium and for some reasons, I watched the comedy artistes closely as they dismounted the stage. As each of them left, he tried to hug another fellow or embrace the MC. At first I thought it was just a person, but then I saw another do same, then another. They were amateurs, still growing in their career and the crowd still had overwhelming effects on them. As I watched on, I couldn’t help but link it up to the morning’s occurrence. And then I thought of me.

I used to get so tired of school work before my third year. Stress is one thing I don’t know how to handle and then sometimes I just need someone to console me real bad. As a freshman I used to turn to my parents. My dad would always call me about 3 times in a day repeating that I don’t push anything far. And when I did push far, he would always offer his condolence along with my mom. They used to help me ease the stress.

In my second year however, I met a lady and we soon became bossom friends. As such, i had a comforter nearby; though we take turns to comfort each other. For her, she just needs you to listen to her when she is stressed. Listen to her and say a few words to reassure her and she is fine. But I, a hug from her was what relieved me the most; a hug goes a long way wallah. And if she wasn’t there, I just cry a while to make the pressure bounce.

As I reviewed the activities of that day I couldn’t help but resort to the conclusion that it is very important to be there for someone else; especially when the person particularly wants you to be there for him/her. It’s one of the rights we owe ourselves as Muslims.
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I also learnt on day 15 that humility is the key to greatness. No matter your level of wealth, class or knowledge in life, always regard yourself as just another servant of Allah so as not to drawn in the pool of pride.
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On a last note, our concentration during salat is one issue I planned to write on but couldn’t. We need to be more conscious of our postures and body language while we pray so as not to perform a mere exercise. The common mistakes made are “looking around while standing, and bending so low during ruku – rather than have your back flat so much so that a rounded item could be placed comfortably on it. The last ten days are for us to move closer to Allah and perhaps, away from our gadgets and all forms of things that could divert our attention. It is for us to perfect our deen and also allow the Qur’an be our guide.

May Allah accept our acts during this blessed month as acts of ibadah.

#Nanabee #RamadhanDiaries #Day20 #Pinday #IhtikhafShortly #Duaa #Islam #Salaam

In the Light of the Qur’an

2 days ago, I woke up with a heavy heart. Usually, when I sulk over something the night before, I usually wake up feeling gloomy. This day however, I had no sad thoughts on mind the night before. Not particularly.

A friend of mine was getting on my nerves and I had been trying my possible best to avoid any form of argument with her. My only reaction to her attitude was that I wasn’t paying her any attention whatsoever. She knew i wasn’t pleased with her and so she stayed on her lane too, not willing to discontinue her actions that got me on the edge. As I forgot to set an alarm and turned in late, I didn’t wake up early. This friend whom I wasn’t on good terms with, was the one who woke me for sahur. I wouldn’t have felt bad if she had woken everyone; as it wasn’t just me she wasn’t on good terms with, but she woke only me. That realization made me feel worse. I didn’t know how, but I felt like a real bad person.

As if that was not enough, the thoughts of the Syrians and the rest of the Muslim world under oppression filled my head. I was just thinking of them as i got off bed and moved around. I had sahur in a low spirit that day and there you go my reader. Your guess is just right. It was the major factor that prompted the poem I posted the other day!!!

Contrary to my penitent feeling the day before, I woke up happy yesterday. Unlike some people, I am not a person who wakes up edgy but being happy? I am just usually normal. No highs no lows. I was however happy yesterday and it bothered me. I didn’t sleep with a sweet thought on my mind. I didn’t speak with any close/old pal or fam right before bed and sahur wasn’t enough reason to be amused. Besides, it was as I hot out of bed, right before I even started doing anything.

I searched my heart for a while and then let go. I told myself I didn’t need to bother unnecessarily if I couldn’t figure out why I was happy. After making my meal, and all other activities necessary, I sat to eat and the same thing that crossed my mind while I was preparing sahur crossed it again. Why do you feel joyous Aisha? And you know what? After some spoons of the meal I figured out what it was.

Since the commencement of ramadhan I have been experiencing some sort of discomfort or the other. Maybe not discomfort, but allow me to use the word. I have classes on the first days of every week from 10 till six! I have group works and strenuous assignments and by the time I returned, I would have been worn out. Sometimes, I just call my parents and act like a child so they can help me laugh it off or give me assuring words. It’s not been easy 😂😰. However, since the 11th I have been getting stronger and used to the game. My body system was adjusting better and I had to step up my spirituality. Though I used to read Quran less often as I was tired majority of the time, I was getting better.

That night before yesterday , I had a headache and decided to rest before ishaa, but it seemed as though I was going to sleep off. I decided to observe ishaa and then turn in once and for all; immediately after ishaa. As I prayed, I decided to be a bit patient and recite a page if the Quran before a sleep. “Just a page and you can rest your head” I thought. And that I did. I recited a page and then another until I raked through a juuz. The headache hadn’t gone but I let myself stay up with the Quran patiently. Then, Snooooze!

I figured out as I ate that the Quran I read the previous night had filtered my heart. It was what made me feel delighted for no reason. If it were something else, I would have known the instance I awoke but it never occurred to me that it could have been the Quran. Subhanallah! How less we think of Kalamu-llah! Asni marveled at the realization, I made a mental note to make my #Day14 out of it and here we are! I hope you pick a lesson or two from it. i.e.
√ in your relationship with people, always be the better one.
√ let Qur’an help restore joy into your heart

Sorry I can’t elaborate 😴😴😇

“…verily in the remembrance of Allah, do heart find rest.” Quran 13: 28.
#RamadhanDiaries #NanaBee #Day14IMG_20160613_202513

Watermelon for mom

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At tafsir yesterday, a little girl alongside her brother walked past, crying. She was mumbling “mummy” with each whimper she made and heads turned to look in her & her brother’s direction. Having known this girl, I called on her, hoping to help trace her mother in the crowd. She turned back the moment I called her, to my surprise. I assumed her mood would result in some restraints but it appeared she needed a fast exit out of her tear-shedding and loitering, trying to spot her mother to no avail.

She came to my side and as I looked down at her to tell her not to cry anymore, she touched the watermelon sitting on my bag. She then groped it with amusement in her eyes. I reached for her hand to stop her but she was already smiling by then. She wanted some of it.

The sisters around me were smiling at her reaction as it was rather spontaneous; she was the same person crying a few seconds back. It wasn’t iftar yet so I had to cut out some for her, and for her brother, leaving the remaining portion in the nylon. And Subhanallah! You’d think she wasn’t the same person who wanted her mom a few minutes ago. Before I gave it to her, I paused to ask her if she was fasting. She is about 3/4 years old and rather too small to fast for a complete day but I just wanted to ask still. Lol. She nodded immediately with her hands still stretched towards the watermelon and she said ‘yes! I am fasting.’ But I couldn’t laugh with the sisters observing around us, she was impatient for any form of interrogation.

When she was almost done munching what was with her, she reached out for the other half with a juicy hand. My dress was already getting its share of the fruity bath too, but what could I do? Children are a blessing from Allah and besides, we all were once children; eating noisily and carelessly as well. I just needed to play mummy for a few minutes so I condoned their craving.

She wanted the other part. I tried talking her out of it but she wouldn’t even let me. She held on to the watermelon tightly and she said “kenkele. I want only kenkele I will not take everything. Gimme more now.” But did I even have a choice? Her brother was also behind, gulping down the last of the fruit with him and so I divided the rest of the fruit and gave them the smaller part. She took hers joyfully and ate it up and her brother also took his, taking his time to devour it patiently, like he did the first time.

As she dropped the back of the watermelon, she took off without looking back. She went over to the ‘high table’ and was shaking hands with each sheikh one after the other even as the tafsir was still on. ☺ Kids! They have no worries at all. Her brother stayed put until he finished his and then he showed me his hands; as a way of telling he was through and ready to leave. He went over to join his sister, forgetting he was looking for mummy too, like his sister.
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Hadith
Anas ibn Malik (may Allah be pleased with
him), said:
I never saw anyone who was more
compassionate towards children than Allah’s Messenger (peace and blessings be upon him). His son Ibrahim was in the care of a wet nurse in the hills around
Madinah. He would go there, and we would go with him, and he would enter the house, pick up his son and kiss him, then come back. (Muslim)
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Show love and compassion towards children. Laugh, play and have little chats with them. It is odd to say it’s a “female thing” to be fond of children as the prophet, our exemplary character, was ever compassionate towards children. May Allah grant us all offspring that would bring coolness to our eyes and ease our path to Jannah. Ameen

#Day13 #NanaBee #RamadhanDiaries

Bottle of Deed: Saving a snail

I was walking back and forth the porch yesternight when I noticed the exquisite ball above. The moon was bright and it made me delighted. As I was moving close to the threshold getting a handful glimpse of it, I needed some artificial source of light to see the rims by the threshold so I wouldn’t miss my steps. The lamp I had with me shone as I clicked it on and it caught the shell of a snail sliding across the porch. It was odd to see a snail at that place and I beckoned on Faiza, my friend, to check it out.

She wasn’t intrigued by it but was rather conscious of the fact that the snail was moving towards the center of the lane which could make it get crushed if a passerby had no lamp or torchlight on while crossing it. She told me to move it aside and then I did, after taking shots of it though. I actually wondered if snails don’t see at night coz it didn’t hide into its shell as I snapped on. It just kept moving.

I took the snail off the road and deposited it in the shrub close by. And Alas! An act of deed was done!

👂👂👂Did I hear you say that’s insignificant?? Of course not! Remember, a promiscuous woman was promised Jannah because she fed a thirsty dog with some water and a pious woman got the tidings of hell as she left a cat unattended to until it died. This is in no way undermining worship or piety but emphasizing the importance of kindness to all creatures that walk the earth.

Do keep me in your duaa pls🙏 I got exams banginggg 😥😂😂
Good night guys 😇

#Day12 #Extra #Nanabee

Can we even love brethren?

I
I am having cranberry
Raspberry, blasberries for iftar
Name the berry and its my merry Ramadhan is so much jolly

I have fasted with all my might
15 to 18 hours that’s been so tight
I am trying to impress my creator
Without carving off like a curator.

A nice meal I had for iftar
Filling my spines beyond my tommy
This monthly routine is such a price
And I pay it well, keeping off all Rice

II
I am now lost in my own tears
Pools of blood circling my length
I miss the meal I had for iftar
Two days ago and still counting

Land of woes is where I am from
Bereft of all the joys it used to have
I ask for nothing more than a penny
To save for sahur, skipping today’s iftar

It was fun when we had water
The kids holding hands as they claps their worries
The rags we wore made us feel like kings
For breathe was all the wealth we were left with

I
My guilt would never leave me
I pretend like I feel no dizzy
Stocking my fridge while I grumble
About how my purse flattens over time

I can’t drink water straight from the tap
Nor consume groceries straight from the earth
My personal list of worries goes forever endless
As my brothers in the middle east suffer in silence

They cry but we laugh
No! They are not silent amidst their wails
But you and I have seem not hear
Ignoring them like we don’t even care

Can we even love brethren?
Do we have hearts hidden away in our chests
Even at iftar we barely remember
To mention their troubles to Allah

Know that you are no Muslim enough brother
If you care not of the affairs of your brothers
As they whimper away across bothers
Do the lot you can to better their fetters.

#RamadhanDiaries #JaraComing #Day12 #Pray4dOppressedIMG_39755566780102

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