LOVE MARRIAGE & FAIRYTALES | MUSLIM VERSION | SPOKEN WORD

Ramadan Imaan inspiration | Part 1 | "Success Through Sacrifice"

A Secret Dream

Heart beats fast
Rushes like it can't last
Silence, s not my task
but it hides
emotions I can't hide

My breath freezes time
I wish it were a crime
But then I see your eyes shine
And I tell myself
I will be fine!

My future is a mystery
My past, a memory!
But it's cuddled in your arms
Where I really want to be

Days may pass
Years have flied
Your smirk still
Reaches my hear
But I am still way too shy

And I tell myself
It's a lie,
It's not real
The feelings that I have
The butterflies I feel

I can convince my soul
But my heart still believes
And when I see you
Across the room
I know looks aren't to be deceived

Millions of stars
Run through my mind
Billions of steps
Before your feet reach mine

Speechless becomes my backspine
Though I rather have
Or fingers entwined
You look at me
And I think of silly rhymes
But in the end,
I know I will be fine

Love is a whisper
Dreams do come true
I smile at you from miles
And I will always
Wait for you.

By: Shyra and Beeya

Sail to the moon

There were times
That were tough
Memories made it rough
Times when the stars were gone
And I forgot how to sleep

The screams that were lashing
The creeks on my eyes
Blown away from the crashing
And trying to muffle my cries

My ears were a curtain
Soaked in blood
My hands were dried cracks
Rotten by the mud

The streets fell
In a voidness
By which much can't say
My time here
Was a blankness
So I'd travel away

I'll sail from the ocean
I'll sail to the moon
My home will be bygone
And I won't stop till noon

My dreams
will be forgotten
As I flee from thy land
Hope is my new abide
That was once stolen
Your man

And the truth that
Had befallen
Washed away from the rain
Will rise like a dandelion
Blown but still remains

The sky was a hazard
Gleaming with flames
Withered bodies with fire
And you forgot your shame

So I'll sail to the moon
In the night of the sea
I'll sail in the deepest water
Where stars will shine down on me

Time will be a broken watch
But I will sleep in peace
No shout or cry to be heard
Will be enough for a feast

My home is abolished
My people are destroyed
Their power is immune to me
So I'm sailing to the moon

2013
-Shyra

Your Name

My heart starts to beat fast
Fluttering in my chest
My pulse runs high
Each vein is separate and alive

Blood rushes up
Cold captivates my feet
My breath is a whisper

And the fire in my body
Cannot compare to the heat

Shivers run through me
It holds and consumes me
An emotion struggled inside me
Feeling united when I see thee

Every piece of hair
Rising on my flesh
Goosebumps scattered
Leaving me breathless in a hush

My lips shape your name
My love brighter then any flame
The feeling that pours in me
Is no doubt that you will see

And I whisper it
Till the light of the dawn
When the sun is in the red
And I smile more
Than the tears I shed

A constant reminder
In my heart
My emotions high
Before I start
And I say your name
Everyday
I say your name,
So I can live a better way.

"صلي الله عليه و سلم"

© Shahira

One and Only

It’s the year 2011 and I’m standing here at the graveyard knowing that I shouldn’t be here. I found out in the middle of the night of my father’s death and I had rushed to the hospital as fast as I could. When I saw his peaceful face I just wanted to hug him and yell père! Père! I couldn’t believe he was gone. I was all alone in the world. The tears were just falling and falling till I noticed I had wet my veil. My dad had been friends with many people, and all those and many more people came to his funeral but at the mosque not a single soul knew that I was my father’s daughter. I just stood there at the sidelines watching everything being done. When the time came to see the face of the deceased I was last standing there and I cried looking at him. He looked so peaceful and so handsome. After all I did, what my father did was right. I learned my lesson and I learned it well. All the men went to the burial site and buried my dad, about 10 feet into the ground. I sat there waiting for everyone to leave but while the process of the burial was going on I sat there thinking; my dad was now going to be all alone; in the grave. He would have no one to talk to no one to run to, nothing at all. If he was lonely in the grave then I was very lonely alive in the world. My tears wouldn’t stop they went on flowing down my cheeks as my eyes started to get dry because of all the excessive crying I had done. So I got out of my car as the last of the men left and made my way to my father’s grave. I had brought flowers for him because he loved them so much and I put it down at the head of his grave. I bowed my head down and made a prayer for him. The tears that I was crying fell one by one on to the grave as they stated to become a small puddle.

My life ended when my père kicked me out of the house. I'm 21 and in university. My name’s Nawal but all my friends and father call me Noelle the English version to my name. My mother was from Austria and my dad from France. Well my stepdad was. My real father I never knew him he passed on before I was born. I grew up calling my dad père not dad or daddy or anything that children these days call their dad. I was brought up in a strict religious family. One thing that I really missed was that I didn’t have any siblings and I wished I did. My life was one of bliss, well more like until I went and did something that finished my dad’s trust in me. When I was 14 my mom passed away from a heart attack and it was only my stepdad and I. I never considered my stepdad as a stepdad; nope never, as if my mother would ever let me. It was he who took care of me when my mom was working late and if I needed something, and when my mom passed on it was my dad who I turned too. Neither of my parents had any relations so I lived a life of not loneliness but it was only mom, dad and child. I recall a memory of when I was 15, my mother had just passed away last year and I could say I was depressed. She was the one I’d turn to, tell her every little secret and just hug her when I felt like it. Yes, we both had our share of quarrels and fights but in those times my dad always sided with me and took my side. So it was another hard day at school and my père had just picked me up.

“Habbiti why are you crying?” my dad inquired. I had been crying a little before he picked me up, but that was because I was never able to open up to anyone except my mom and mow she wasn’t here to talk too. My friends were always there for me but like I said I could never tell them what I was feeling or what I was thinking. So my dad peered into my face as I sat down and just looked at me and then put the car in drive when I never said anything. Millions of thoughts were going through my head at that moment and I could see my dad staring at me from the corner of eyes for just a bit too longer than usual; and that’s what caused the next impact. We crashed. Alhamdulillah it wasn’t a head on collision but a minor accident.

However, though my dad and I were hurt and the only thing I could hear was “Noelle...Noelle are you okay...”the voice was hoarse and it sounded like père was having trouble breathing. I tried to turn my head and I wasn’t ready to see what I saw then. I felt like my world had ended then and there. It was only a minor accident! Well it looked like that but as I looked on to père I felt the tears well and fall down my cheeks. The ambulance was here and they took us out. My veil was coming off and I tried to pull it down to cover my face but the lady who was holding me tired to put it up until she failed at it.

I could hear myself saying “père...père...no...This can’t be...père...” and on it went. The paramedics’ calmed me down and took me to the hospital. I had to stay there one day because I had a concussion. The moment I was discharged I ran to the room they told me my father was in. When I went in he was awake. He looked at me and smiled. My best friend Mariam had come to see me when she had heard and seeing the condition of my clothes and abaya and veil she brought some of her own for when I could leave. In her clothes I looked and felt so different and my father noticed it too but never commented on it. I looked at him from afar for a bit then walked up to him.


“Père...how...Are you?” I asked him even though I knew it was dumb to ask such a thing. He looked horrible with a neck brace and a big huge bandage on his head. He looked at me and just looked away. I was shocked and I wondered why but I realized because of all the painkillers the doctors were giving him he had fell asleep. The doctor had come in while I was looking at my dad and I knew I was crying looking at my dad’s state. The doctor assured me that all would be good and in no time my dad would up and around.


The next time my dad woke up I was sitting there holding his hand and he looked and said “princess, how are you?” I think those were the only words anyone said or asked these days. “I'm fine père, don’t worry about me. Now hurry up and get okay soon, I need a shoulder to cry on you know” which earned me a smile from my dad.


My dad had a quick recovery and life went on. Although when the two of us were sitting in our living room a few days later he asked me “Noelle darling, why were you crying that day of the accident?” I didn’t know what to actually say because truthfully I had been crying cause of my marks in my classes and because of my mom. I had failed in one of my tests which were 50% of my mark and now I had no idea how to make it up. If I told my dad he’d be pissed because my dad was someone who wanted top grades and all. I wasn’t dumb but I wasn’t smart in all subjects. When it came to English and science I would fail so badly, but when it came to math I excelled better than my whole class. So I kind of evaded the question and said “père don’t worry about it, we shouldn’t worry about the past you know.” My dad never let it go and in the end I told him. The reaction he gave shocked me. He told me it was alright and I could work harder and then he pulled me in his arms where we both broke down, remembering my mother and all the past events that we had gone through ever since she died.


That was when I was 15. As I grew older things started getting worse. The day I turned seventeen I told my dad I wanted a birthday party. Stare at me was all he did and then he slapped me and walked away. I cried that whole entire day. I didn’t leave my room I never received any calls neither did I reply back to my friends texts. I was so shocked and hurt. My father had never hit me. Never. And then I realized what I had done. Birthdays weren’t allowed in Islam and I had asked if I could celebrate mine. I think about it now and realize the group of friends I was hanging around back then weren’t all too good. So the moment I realized my mistake I went searching for my dad in the house. I apologized and he hugged me, and told me to go pray salat’ul tobah. So I did. After praying and cleaning up the mess I had made in my room I cleaned the house and came across something in the attic as I went to go get something from there. It was a dark mahogany jewellery box and in it was a gold necklace that I had never seen. It was in the shape of a heart and in it were the names of Allah’s and the prophets. I stared at how beautiful it was and picked up the whole box and necklace and took it down stairs. My dad was sitting in his chair reading the Quran, but as he saw me approaching him he marked his page and put it on the table beside the chair and looked at me questioningly.

“I wasn’t prying around père but I had gone into the attic to get something and saw this on the table...what is it? Whose is it?” I asked him hastily. He looked at me and looked at the box and turned away. “Père!” I yelled “tell me whose it is?! Pleaseeeee!” I know I was whining but it was worth it. “your biological father left that to your mother for you when you turned 17....I was suppose to put it on your dressing table tonight but, it seems like you are one step ahead of me” he told me. I put the box down and looked at the necklace and I felt tears in my eyes. My dad came close and hugged me.


Then when I was 19 and 20 I had become a hafiza and now done with high school as well. My 2nd and 3rd year of university. I fell into the hands of bad friends. Friends who influenced me and I went along. My father didn’t know anything until one day I came home to find him in a rage. I knew he could smell it on me, the smell of smoke was visible on my clothes, and for some reason I knew he knew everything about me. I didn’t know how, and I never asked him why. When I came in the door he had been waiting for me; because the moment I stepped over the threshold he slapped me and called me foul names. My university was only a girl’s university, they have such things these days, but in the university I had become a popular singer. With my voice I’d sing songs and I was known around. Instead of professing my reading the Quran I sang songs and for that, I knew I was sinning but I went on doing it knowing that people loved my voice. When high school finished me and Mariam ended up going to different universities, she was going into the doctorate field where as I was just learning more and more math. Once my dad slapped me he told me to get my things and leave the house. When I think about it my dad knew that I wasn’t only singing but doing many things that I’d never wish to say or tell; all I knew that all I did back then were all sinful. I stared at him as I started crying but he was serious. I packed my clothes and some stuff that I’d never want to leave behind and went downstairs. I pleaded to my dad to forgive me, it was a mistake but the words he said made me go cold to the bone “Noelle, you broke my trust. I trusted you beyond anything and you broke it. You have gone on to the wrong path and I...----his voice wavered but he composed himself and went on—I can only tell you this but, you never were a daughter to me. I loved your mother beyond anything and that is why I kept you. Your father and I hated each other but because I loved your mother I kept you because she loved you. I knew that as you grew older you’d turn out to be like your father and that is what you have done. I want no person or thing in my house if they will disobey the rules of our religion and God. For that you may leave now and I wish to never see you again!” and with that he pushed me towards the door. As I almost put my foot out he pulled me back and I thought he might’ve changed his mind but instead he pulled my veil off, open the pins to my hijaab and took that off too, and opened my hair so that it fell to its proper length; which was to my knees.


“You don’t need to wear any of that stuff Noelle. After all that you have done you have no right to disgrace the women of our kind. Yes, I say our cause girl you are no part of it any more” and with that he opened the door wide and told me to leave.

The skies were getting darker and rain was going to start to fall but I made my across the rain and wind to my best friend’s house; Mariam. When she saw me enter she stood shocked and her mouth was in agape. We went to her room and I told her the whole story, she never knew most of the parts. Her reaction hurt the most to me than anyone’s. She yelled at me for what seemed like forever and then she looked at me and told me to get out of her house. I just stood there crying letting the tears fall but not saying anything. I put my hijaab on only this time and started to walk out when Mariam too pulled the hijaab off and said “Noelle you have no right to wear that and disgrace the women of our Muslim humanity. Go and show yourself to world as you already have, you shouldn’t be so shameful now” she mocked at me and told me to leave.


I had some money so I used it to rent a room for a while and later transferred out of the university I went to another one far away from the place I called home. My life shattered the moment my father had said those words to me. I never believed him. I never would. It just couldn’t be true. He had a much softer heart than those words he had yelled at me, but he was my father and I knew I was wronged. He was teaching me a lesson but in a very hard manner. Every day I cried and I still do. That day when my father and best friend turned against me I remembered my mother very dearly then. Thinking of all the fights and quarrels I’d have with her, but my father would come to my rescue. With all those thoughts I lived 2 years of my life without him and everyone. I never once talked to Mariam ever again and obviously my dad too. I had no other relations so it was only me, myself and I. I lost complete contact with her and till today I have no idea about her. I went away to a boarding school which offered university credits but had an Islamic air around. I kept on practising my Quran and kept updates about my father. I got a job which in the end helped me a lot. Since I was keeping updates about my father I found out that after he kicked me out, my father was diagnosed with last stage cancer. The money I had from my job I sent to him so that he could get treatment. He lasted for about a year.


When I was little I would say to père “I love you more than mommy, more than anyone. God means alot to me but after him will always be you!” and id jump into his arms and we’d hug each other and he’d put me to sleep. After my mom passed away I never said those words but today as I sit by your grave seeing the fresh earth over you I whisper those words, “I love you more than mommy, more than anyone. God means alot to me but after him will always be you! It’ll always be you père...Always...Always be you...” and I broke down sobbing and crying. After some time I got up gave your grave one last look especially at the tombstone where it was craved:

“Best husband and amazing father”


Those words were what gave me courage to go on with my life. I never forgot my father’s words ever neither my best friends but one thing is for sure I never made the same mistakes ever again. I lived my life in loneliness without my parents and friends but with Allah’s guidance and his way to show me around the world. God helped me alot, I mean it’s his job right? But parents their once and only, you can’t choose your parents neither can you get them back once you lose them. I lived my life in remembrance of my parents especially my father.

 

 

There is a poem that was originally written with it. It is also called One and Only.

 

 

 

I turned away

And started to walk away from you.

I counted and believed upon you.

You were the only one who I always turned too

But you betrayed me,        

Used me,

And most of all hurt me.

I don’t understand what I should do.

Where will I live?

How will I eat?
You couldn’t have done worse to me than what you did now.

It starts to rain.

My dark long hair falls down my back.

The wind blows and I don’t know where to go.

You didn’t do well.

Never good to me.

I turned around to look at you.

You were miles away but still there.

I turned around once again and started to walk away.

                                                                              *****

Years go by when I get news of you.

The tears won’t stop and my voice won’t come out.

I Loved You

You were the only one I ever loved.

But now you were gone.

I sat by your grave

Looking at your tombstone

Where it said ”Best Dad”

I wanna disagree but I can’t

You might have kicked me outa your house and disowned me to hell,

But then you were father after all.

I laid the flowers on your grave,

Bent my head to pay my respects

And walked away from you

Just as you had made me

All those years ago.

Unwanted

I was walking down the hallway, when a group of girls came and pushed me and walked away. I am a Muslim and my name is Aziza Mahmood. I wear the Hijaab and Abaya, I come from England, but I had to move here with my family cause of some problems. I have an older brother named Abdurrahman and he is 20 years old then comes me and after me 3 young and annoying brothers, whose names are Ebaad, Sofyan, and Huzafiah. Well the public school I go to is in Ontario, Toronto (Canada), and the school’s name is cedar drive. All the kids (boys and girls) do not like me because there is only Christian and Jews in the school, hardly any Muslims, and those Muslims did not really practice Islam, while I did so they knew the difference I love practicing Islam I’m a hafiza and wants to be an aalima but there was no course for it in England or Canada, but I wasn’t going to south Africa or America and neither was my older brother cause he wants to be an aalima but he wasn’t going anywhere either.


In my grade 9 class my teacher loves me cause I’m so smart and all the school teachers loves me too because I’m so nice and kind along with loving. But the boys and girls are just jealous and they don’t like me because I am Muslim cause there always pushing and swearing at me. But what am I spouse to do, just ignore them and be nice to them that are all. I was walking to English class something I loved; I did not take music or gym. I was late in class today, but the teacher did not say anything. He was a nice man that really liked me. A girl named Angela looked at me and said “no one wants you, go away”. A boy named Jacob said “oh, Aziza come and sit down before you get in trouble”. He was my neighbor that I lived beside and he sat at my desk with me and other kids. He did not hate me or like me either, but he was nice and he did not show that he hated me. We finished class and everyone left accept for me and this one other Muslim named Zainub, she was not that much of a person that practiced Islam but she was Saudi. She was said to be a very nice girl but I had no idea because I never talked to her. So today I made salaam and she replied. I asked how she was, and she did not reply. I again asked her again how she was and she did not reply at all so then I asked her “do you have a problem with me, like everyone in our grade”. “Yes, I do what you care for”. “I want to know, so I can change myself from what I’m doing wrong”. She started to yell really badly of how I’m a perfect Muslim and that I am so smart and she went on, the room we both were in was one of the main rooms for the speaker and MIC, the speakers were attached to the whole school and before the teacher leaves he puts it on so it was on and everyone heard. Zainub was quite at the end her last line was “are you know going to change yourself. I was in tears for her rudeness the fact she said all lot of swear words, it had only been a month or so that I came here to cedar drive. So I replied back to her “are you not a Muslim do you know anything about Islam, who do you and everyone think you are. I’m sorry I was born and made perfect by god. You all want respect from me, well you should know that respect has to be earned you can’t just get it like that. I don’t despise any one kid in this school but you all are just jealous of me, go live elsewhere”. I did not finish but went on and then when I came to an end my last line was “Allah give you and everyone guidance, I do good stuff and you and everyone tell me to stop and get lost, look I don’t you need you to love me my parents and teachers and my god I don’t need you and everyone ok. Look why don’t we make up and become friends I’ll say sorry and why don’t you say sorry so we can this over with”. We then found out the whole school heard and they felt bad for me. So from then on most kids were really nice but some were just the same old same. The good thing was that Jacob had turned Muslim that day and so did his family he even broke up with his girlfriend. That day I stayed late in school so when I was done all my work that I had to finish off I called my brother on my cell and told him to pick me up. He came in 20 minutes, and in his hot red m3. I went and sat in and told him everything, he was really happy about everything except about how Zainub was being rude and swearing at me and at how the whole school heard. The next day at school a poster went up saying religion week. I lined up first for Islam this would be my chance to change the school. Later I went to lunch with Zainub; we both were over the thing that had happened; now she was just like me (wearing the scarf and Abaya). All of a sudden Angela from my English class came and said “you might have changed my friends but you won’t change me or my family! NO ONE WANTS YOU I told you that before, go away, please your ruining my life!”. “I’m sorry I can’t go anywhere but this school. I don’t really have a choice or I’d been long gone not even to bother or bug you. But just wait when I give my speech about Islam and then we’ll see who will be leaving or not”. Angela from that day on hated me; she gave me dirty looks and swears at me. Angela was a Jewish and I was a Muslim. The big day came, and who ever signed up were called up to the back of the stage. I was last in line, because Islam was not so popular and other religions were, but all those religions were up front. I had called a molana for a job to do and so he came but no one knew because if he was needed I would call him. Everyone finished, it was my turn. Oh my god! I WAS so scared, what on earth was I suppose to do now. I started how there is one god and that you only worship none but him and Nabi (S.A.W) is his messenger and slave and I went on, after what seemed like an hour I was coming to an end every girl and boy and teachers was In tears, I, myself tried not to let the tears but in the end I asked them all “are you all going to become Muslims”. They all accepted Islam but I wasn’t done while I was telling them everything I realized that I was a brat. It’s not like that in Islam you should not have pride in yourself there was a hadith I told them and it was that Nabi (S.A.W) said, one who says salaam is free from pride. They all understood but I had not, I had pride in myself. I then asked everyone “please everyone listen a, Muslim brother and sister has to forgive each other, I ask for forgiveness because I have been bad with you all and I had pride in myself please tell me you all forgive me” and everyone said yes they do forgive me. Angela stood up with grin on her face and said that she forgives me but she will not turn Muslim and neither will she stay here and got up and left . I then called the molana and he explained everything. From that day on the school changed and from cedar drive it was Toronto Islamic school for boys and girls, they were all separate. All boys had to wear a juba any color and girls had to wear an Abaya and scarf but gr-8 and up had to wear a veil. When my family found this out they were really happy my brother especially because he knew that I was able to do these kinds of stuff .it was not possible but, it happened.



The school went really good, because I graduated from gr.12 from there and not only that I even taught all the girls Quran, and we had aalimas and aalims that came and taught the school. And no one ever forgot my speech that I gave 3 years ago. After that me and some girls went to madressa in England and became aalimas, by then we were all best friends and we never forget each other. My little brothers became aalims and my older brother a mufti, he got married and had kids, and they were so cute. Later on me and my husband went to hajj and opened a madressa for boys and girls. And no one ever forgot the speech or school.


By: Ira