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Showing posts with the label grief

That laughter did not just echo in the air...

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There was a time I spoke of my dreams the way a child speaks of the stars softly, innocently, with affection in my voice.  I shared them not as a burden, not as a demand, but simply as a piece of my heart. And somewhere along the way, my dreams were misunderstood, and the very thing I had trusted with affection  was turned into something to laugh at. That laughter did not just echo in the air, it echoed inside my chest. And something fragile within me shattered quietly. My intention had been pure. My words had been gentle. But still, they were misunderstood. So slowly I learned to hold my heart back, to keep my dreams folded within my silence. Today, while standing in prayer, I spoke of those same dreams again but this time only to Allah. And suddenly I understood something. Those dreams were never meant to be carried by the world. Where my sincerity was misunderstood, Allah understood it before I even spoke. Where my heart once felt small, He made it feel seen. For I always k...

Women should not be sad.

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Imagine moonlight whispering secrets to a flower bowed by dew. That's the tenderness in Allah's words to women in the Quran:  " Do not be sad ."  These aren't just words; they are luminous embraces meant to soothe the soul. See how gently He speaks:  "So that her eyes may find coolness and she would not grieve." (Al-Qasas)  It's like a soft hand wiping away tears.  Again,  " That their eyes may find comfort and they may not grieve." (Al-Ahzab)  A promise of solace. Even in moments of great trial,  "Do not grieve," (Maryam) a whisper of hope.  And again, a double blessing: "Do not fear and do not grieve." (Al-Qasas) Why this repeated tenderness? Because Allah, in His infinite wisdom, understands that a woman's sorrow resonates deeply. It's not a fleeting shadow, but a storm that can shake her very core, dimming her light, weakening her strength, and stealing her peace. He sees the delicate architecture of her hear...

I wonder how the bird whose wings were cut off...

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I wonder how the bird whose wings were cut off looks at the sky? With rage? With regret? With grief? Despair? Love? Peace? Maybe it looks at the sky with grief , remembering what it once had. Maybe with rage , because something precious was taken. Maybe with regret , because the sky still calls but can’t be reached. Maybe with despair , realizing the distance between longing and reality. Or maybe strangely, beautifully with love , because the sky was once home. And perhaps even with peace , because after fighting and hurting and yearning, sometimes a living thing learns to rest in what is left.

I'm no longer what I used to be, this world has changed me a lot...

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I'm no longer what i used to be, this world has changed me alot, i wish to be my old self again, to smile without any grief again, to be alive again. -روح

And maybe someday in life when you will...

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And maybe someday in life when you will find yourself drowning out of grief, May your kind deeds become the buoyant force to lift you up. ~Tahseen Anam