Morning dew kisses the cold stone of your grave;
While I sit every dawn beside you, still I crave
Your warm embrace to comfort me on these days
When I long for you, but enough of all the clichés.
They do nothing but make my hardship miserable;
The only reason I hold on, is that I am afraid
That the Best of Planners would deem it unreasonable
And devide us, for his most generous gift I'd betrayed.
So I'm struggling to believe while deciding:
Should I honestly just leave, or have trust
In the Most Merciful? Heart and sense colliding;
I remain detestable for doubting the Most Just.
Tears soak my rug when I prostrate each day;
When I'm by myself and no one is able to hear,
I mutter a small prayer by the ground where you lay;
When I'm abandoned by creation only He remains near.
What could soothe my ache but pleas;
With every hardship comes ease
Indeed, with every hardship comes ease
._■_.
(1) Have We not uplifted your heart for you ˹O Prophet˺,
(2) relieved you of the burden
(3) which weighed so heavily on your back,
(4) and elevated your renown for you?
(5) So, surely with hardship comes ease.
(6) Surely with ˹that˺ hardship comes ˹more˺ ease.
(7) So once you have fulfilled ˹your duty˺, strive ˹in devotion˺,
(8) turning to your Lord ˹alone˺ with hope.
- Ash-Sharh (Consolation/Relief), 94:1-9.
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Anaxiphilia
Poetry"Over my dead body you sadistically gaze; You still choose this, despite the many ways You could leave, but you only desire me to grieve."
