“I trust the red sun setting,
the leafless November trees.
On Monday morning I look forward
fearlessly to Friday’s eve.
But humans are not as reliable
as nature, as trees.
I wonder if you’ll come back;
I trust only that you leave.”
― Ellen Wittlinger, Book: Hard Love
Picture from http://goodmenproject.com/
As I scatter rose petals onto the wet soil
I wonder if you are resting
I wonder if you can smell the roses
I wonder if you are well.
As I scatter the orchids on to the wet soil
I wonder if you know I am here
I wonder if you can feel my hand touching the soil
I wonder if you could see me.
As I raise my hands to pray
I wonder if you know how much I love you
I wonder if you can feel how weak I am
I wonder if you can see my heart.
Broken and mended
Wounded and healed
Broken and wounded repeatedly
Mended and healed repeatedly
I miss you, my first child
I will be there with you when the time is right
When the Almighty decides it is time
I know you will be waiting with a big smile
And you will once more be in my arms.
13th February 2015
It was really hard to be so far from my friend and not be able to be there in person to help her when she lost her son (her eldest). And it was harder to speak on the phone. I put myself in her position and as a mom; I would probably just want that time alone – me, my family and God.
There are no words or understanding or gestures which would make someone heal from such a tragedy in a short period of time. Heartbroken would be a word to use but it really does not explain how the heart feels and how physically exhausting it is.
May Allah bless you with solace, strength and steadfastness. May you find happiness daily. May your family be strong together.
I love you, Julie.
La Tahzan Innallaha Ma’ana
“Don’t be sad; indeed, Allah is with us.” [Surah At-Taubah: 9:40]
Sometimes when I’m alone
Cause I am on my own.
The tears I cry are bitter and warm.
They flow with life but take no form
I Cry because my heart is torn.
I find it difficult to carry on.
If I had an ear to confide in,
I would cry among my treasured friend,
but who do you know that stops that long,
to help another carry on.
The world moves fast and it would rather pass by.
Then to stop and see what makes one cry,
so painful and sad.
and no one cares about why.
— Tupac Shakur
Loneliness is indeed a really painful experience. I do believe that being lonely is an acceptance to who you are. Every choice we make in life has consequences. We have to take responsibilities of those consequences. We have to create our support system. We do not expect, we always place hope. We fill the void, we create happiness. And sometimes…..we just have to cry.
Picture taken near The Lourve, Paris (2012)
The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
When Great Trees Fall
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
small things recoil into silence,
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
gnaws on kind words
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
dependent upon their
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.”
― Maya Angelou
I miss The Thames in winter
I miss sitting down on the bench and watch the ducks swim by
I miss watching the river from Richmond Hill
We shall meet again