Just breathe

Hamza

I lay awake, submerged in my thoughts.

"Cancer is not a joke, OK? You have no idea how much pain she is in," Ulfat screamed.

"Lung cancer isn't much of a healer," Faisal said.

I clasped my ears with both my hands and the pillow. But it was pointless. These were not external voices. They were mental replays. And the only way to silence these voices was to shoot me.

"If you want peace, then read the Quran or pray. That is the only way to heal your heart. This temporary peace is going to do you no good."

I stood up and went to the restroom. After all, what did I have to lose? Faisal was correct in one respect: smoking only provides temporary relief and is more dangerous in the long run. Its advantages are outweighed by its disadvantages.

It was time for Isha. Isha is a namaz that includes four fard and three witr. I hadn't prayed witr in a long time. I realized I had forgotten the dua that we were supposed to read in it.

I could feel guilt filling me as I dropped to Sujood. Despite the guilt eating away at my insides, it felt strangely peaceful. But why wouldn't it? The Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) said:

"The nearest a servant comes to his Lord is when he is prostrating himself, so make supplication (in this state)."

I wanted to make a dua for myself, but I had no idea what I wanted. What should I pray for? How do I approach the Creator of the Universe? Instead, tears streamed down my cheeks one after the other.

I curled up on the prayer mat after finishing. I wanted to promise my Lord that I would only do what he wanted and refrain from everything else. But I was terrified. I was afraid I'd break my promise. But there was one promise I made to myself as well as to my Lord: I'd quit before it was too late.