Lady,
It appears as if every pace of your steps, the sound of your voice when you speak, your eloquence, the firmness in your words and your fierce eyes narrate a story of independence. But if you would look beyond what the surface shows, you'd see a labyrinth that's all connected to a heart that is barely holding on. You'd see a qalb that if not for the Mercy of its Rabb—would drown in a split of a second.
Sometimes I wonder where in part of you they found peace and calmness in your presence and in your voice when I can hear your silent tears and your nagging thoughts. Your confessions to Allāh is not a secret to my soul, and my innocence, I'd reiterate, is forever tainted with the fact that some smiles are but façade when the beat of your throbbing qalb is perfectly heard by my ears.
I've heard of ladies who were toughen by their pains and scars, but you were soften by yours. You're an ocean of saccharine thoughts that almost everything about are tacenda. And may be like you're like your umm; a combination of strength and vulnerability.
Nevertheless, breathe, lady. You're just exactly where you needed to be.
—Veiled Poet | lady in me
