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

Truth be Told

It was all quite. The hour had struck twelve. The rustlings of leaves could be heard as well as little whimpers. The child that was being held captive was small and young, dressed in a uniform. She had come quite quietly when he offered her chocolate. Arrianna he thought to himself, many people are going to get hurt all because of you.

******

The light of the moon drifted into my room. I was sitting on my bed; cross-legged, long dark black hair falling behind my back and around my face. The room was all dark except for the moonlight; my roommate was fast asleep in her own bed. As all was quiet, I heard a noise from outside my window. I rushed there to see what the noise was. The window wouldn’t open, I pulled at it and pulled till it gave in; it gave an old groan and opened up to the cool night outside. I felt as if someone was walking on the grounds, but they couldn’t have, the gates were too high to climb and guards and their dogs were always patrolling. Oh well I thought...maybe there was someone off grounds? Who knows? I went and sat back down on the bed and got lost in my thoughts again.
As morning came, you could hear the birds singing, the wind blowing lightly but most of all it was that annoying bell that wakes you up every morning. Ever since I came to this boarding school, I thought, 12 years imagine. I looked outside to see the sun rising; it looked as if it was a woman who was waking up from her beauty sleep. The way it parted through the clouds and rose higher by every second. A little sigh escaped my lips as I breathed into the fresh air. I looked outside the windows and saw footprints. It was fall time, the beginning of new school year. And the leaves had not been raked yet. Somehow there was someone's- no not someone but two people's footsteps. One big sized, the other tiny child like steps. I stared at the steps from so high above with a curiosity that never got the better of me. My roommate started to stir awake and I quickly ran to the washroom for a head start.

The day started with its normal routine. My roommates name was Habbiah. She was a Muslim girl that had been going here since gr.3. The two of us weren't best friends but we were close. Habbiah was beautiful. Long blonde hair, blue-green eyes, pale skin a beauty queen from the start. As I was brushing my hair my hair there was a light knock on the door, Nate, I thought, right on time like usual. Nate was Nate, his full name was Nate Contê; from French background but Canadian born. He had light blonde hair that his whole family had too but the eyes made him different from everyone else in the school and his family. Purple. Everyone would stop to stare at him, the color purple wasn't so known around here. Well he was handsome too I thought. But thoughts like those were never appropriate considering that we were best friends, ever since we were born. He was only. Few weeks older than me, but not smarter than me. I smiled at that, if I had said that to him he'd come up with one of his smart lines. Habbiah had left the room long time ago. Nate came in and went for the bed to sit on. I went to a guys and girls boarding school called “The Keepers” (I have no idea why it was named that except that it was perfect, I mean the people who kept us were pretty much our keepers). However, we had the normal rules but sometimes even a little bit more rules, like when a guy or a girl enters any of the opposite peoples room the door had to be left open. I was still brushing my hair going through the routine of 10 strokes on each lock of hair. I could tell Nate was annoyed and tired of it but hey, if he wanted to go he could. “Arrianna, please at least today hurry up” he said pleadingly. I looked at him from the mirror, “why?” it was a simple question; even though I knew the answer. I don’t think I've told you much about myself. Well, for starters you already know my name is Arrianna-Arrianna Duchess. My father was a Spanish Duke and my mother an Italian Princess. However, the war hit and those titles fell; you see that I sat titles and ranks but honor and respect? That was still given to my parents. Many people loved my parents; I don’t want to boast about it but it was like that. Although, whenever I went anywhere I would be shunned, cursed at and many more things that I don’t want to go into details. But Nate was right today was an important day. I searched my best friends face and knew that I was pissing him off second by second, “okay okay, I’ll hurry up” I said to him. The next few minutes that went by, you would’ve never imagined Arrianna the popular girl in school was dressed and ready to go in 2 minutes.
We walked downstairs to breakfast just as we were stopped by a flutter of little children running down the hall. Nate stopped me with a movement of his hand “Rina,” he said “anything that happens today, don’t open your mouth okay.” I know that he was saying it for my own good but in a way it hurt a little, “I know okay. You don’t need to tell me” I snapped at him. A pout was planted on my lips before I could even stop it, and I crossed my arms over my chest to give it an equal measure. “Rina!” Nate exclaimed “you know I didn’t say it like that!” “Ya, well you don’t need to tell me, whenever they come. I know by now okay? I’m in 12th grade, grown up, and—I was cut off by the emergency bell; which meant that there was either danger in or out the building. In those cases we had to get to the nearest teacher in sight. And at this very moment there was not a single teacher or student around. Fear crossed my face and Nate saw it, he took my hand and we ran down the hall as fast as we could to someplace where people were. As we got near the front of the building we saw our headmistress. She wasn’t a beautiful women neither was she an ugly tramp but handsome in her own way. Her name was Madame Hawthorn. And a thorn she was! As much as love she had she had the same amount of…evil was not the word but it went something along those lines. When she saw me and Nate coming towards her she said “Contê, Duchess! Gym now!” the two of us turned towards the gym. Now this is where Nate and I had to part. He went towards the boy’s wing and I turned towards the girl’s. I was trying to find my group of friends, but they were nowhere to be seen. But my eyes found Habbiah right away. She was sitting with her friends but was one outstanding person with her colored Hijaabs that would sparkle and shine. I walked up to her and her friends. Most of them were Muslims, dressed in Islamic attire as well. Although some of the girls just wore casual clothing. Habbiah was Syrian and her friends varied from different parts of the world. I walked up to Habbiah and said “Hey…ummmmm can I sit with here please?” “Sure c’mon” she said with a cheery smile. The headmistress and the whole staff came in. There was a pained look to Madame. She asked for quiet and told us what had happened. It ruined my day beyond anything else.
Good. Very good he thought. All was going by plan. He had kidnapped the girl, the emergency bell had rung and all he needed to do was wait. He hated waiting, but to think he waited 12 years, why not a little bit more? The little girl was fast asleep; he didn’t want to hurt her in anyway. She was a cute child named Lucy. She had red hair and green eyes. She had just turned 5 and……he couldn’t finish the thought. He took a picture out of his pocket and looked at his beautiful Arrianna. His beloved Arrianna. She looked exactly what he thought she would look like. Beautiful and young. Black long hair that travelled past her waist. But the most amazing thing about his Arrianna was that she had tri-colored eyes. People never noticed them though but when in the light they bright up and shine. She was as tall as him but way skinner as before. Just a little bit more time dear he thought, then we’ll be together; reunited again.
***
Classes had been stopped and the whole school was confined in the gym. The whole gym was scattered around of all the kids—500—all in number. My little baby I thought. Lucy I couldn’t believe it! My Lucy! She was so little so vulnerable! Lucy was my little sister but she didn’t look at all like me. I wouldn’t cry but something was going through me. I wanted to do something to the man, wanted to hurt him bad and hard. Nate and my girlfriends kept looking at me worriedly. Tears were threatening to fall and I think it did because Nate wiped it away the moment it fell. Everyone was quiet; not talking not moving. The little kids hardly understood all of this. I looked away from my group of friends and saw someone walking towards me. Fury leapt and anger brimmed my eyes. Denna. She was another Muslim, Syrian girl, beautiful. As much as we hated each other I had to admit she was really pretty. We both had our own courts. She stayed with most of the Muslims and with other people too but was popular just like me. I know I sound conceited but I’m just telling how it is. I looked her up and down while she just stood there and looked at me. Her outfit shocked me. She was wearing black dress pants, shirt that was white which went to her waist, had a beige belt around and was wearing a black Hijaab that covered chest and half her back. “Hi Arrianna”, she said. I ignored her, we had our fights and grudges and had payed the consequences for all of them too. “Look, I know we hate each other but…ummm...I just wanted to say I’m really sorry about what happened with your sister,” she was saying, I don’t know if she was mocking me or what it was but—“I know what you’re going through, when my older brother died when I was younger, I thought that life had left me” Deena said sadly. I was shocked! All this time I thought Deena was a lone child, all spoiled and bratty, but…life is harsh I've come to understand that. I looked at Deena and saw tears brimmed her eyes but she composed herself and said again “I’m really sorry about Lucy, if you ever need and anything; don’t hesitate to ask”. And with that she turned on her heel and walked away.

What happens after Denna walks away is kind of hard to explain because the moment Deena left the PA system come on and called everyone to attention and announced the arrival of Duke Adrian and Princess Nicolê. I was in a bad all of a sudden from that one little announcement. Me and my parents never got along, especially me and my mom. Whenever they came to meet me here they would make big deals out of many things and would always embarrass me in front of everyone. I talked back to them once, twice, three times till Nate yelled at me and said many things to me as well. So I would stay quiet then. I would act like a well behaved loving daughter just as they wanted me to be like. Everyone assembled in rows of their own grades and stood. As my parents entered with Madame everyone stood still and watched. I could see my mother had been crying, but she composed herself now. For 15 minutes my father gave a little speech then headed out the doors looking straight at me and beckoning me to them. I got out of line and walked towards them. As we walked out the door my mother was holding my hand when I burst into tears. Both my parents held me as I cried and tried to soothe me.

Lucy was nowhere to be found. It had been two weeks and I had put my pride down and gone to Deena. This was the conversation that had taken place:
“Deena, uhh do u have a minute?” she had been in the library studying. “Ya sure” she said with a smile. Lord she was beautiful it was just too hard to forget. “Ummm... Well I was wondering...That…I...” “Arrianna have you come here to call truce?” she asked “yes! I was just looking for the right words you know” I said flustered. “Well of course I don’t mind being friends I gave you that offer” she told me. So, now we were good friends getting closer and closer. After a week passed by we had English class; classes has resumed the next day. Deena came in and took a seat beside me and Nate. She had a light happiness in her eyes or I don’t know how you would describe it, but she looked as if something had really pleased her. I asked her. “What’s up Dee? You look really happy today” “no not happy just really pleased” she replied. Nate got really curious too and said “C’mon tell” “well have you heard of the famous teenage poet?” Deena said, “What’s her name?” Nate inquired, “Hira” Deena said, “Never heard of her” Nate said, but I was sure I had heard that name before, but from where? I looked at Deena and said “do you have some of her poems?” “Of course I do! Here look at this one” and she gave it to me and Nate—


An Honorable Bond
I gaze aat you.
Seeing you smile,
My thoughts are filled with happy words,
That I can’t really say out loud.
I want you to turn towards me,
To talk to me, and tell me everything from the
Absent years of quietness.
I've felt restlessness in my heart without you.
You’ve got no idea how much you mean to me.
We’ve been together for years, keeping this friendship
From the beginning of time.
I value it; I want you to do the same.
You’re my friend, the one and only I trust.
You honor me and I do the same.
Memories of our friendship wash over me, as
I take a step to turn towards you.
It was a misunderstanding,
A fight,
A quarrel,
And I really can’t live with the fact that you’re mad at me.
I want to share my thoughts, problems, hardships
Happiness and everything I own with you.
I want to be friends again and stay like that forever,
Till the end of our breaths.
You’re like closest person I have as a family.
How can I share the feelings I’m feeling right now.
As I’m thinking about all of this, I didn’t realize that you had
Stepped in front of me and was holding my shoulders. We searched each other’s eyes for any faults and found nothing. We put our arms around each other and hugged.
We would have stayed like that till the end of the world
But then we spent our lives
With the most happiness,
Love,
Kindness
But most of all;
Friendship.
This was a never ending thing.
It stayed in our blood that we passed it on
To our progeny.
Even then it didn’t stop, it stayed until we
Met in heaven.
We had vowed that we would never let any
Type of force break us through, and that we
Would let God honor this friendship we
Both shared.
And He did.
We lived as the most best of friends forever;
In Life and in the Hereafter.


© Ira


I was amazed! And shocked. Deena filled us in about Hira; she was a girl of 17, had been writing poems ever since her freshman year however now her book of poems were published and the world was reading them. Just as these thoughts of her were in my head our teacher walked in; Professor Carroll. This man was one of the funnies man ever. And he was former author so he loved teaching English. We took our books out and looked toward the board to see that we were doing poems…by famous poets and Hira was one of them. I don’t think I've ever payed that much attention in class than I did today. After class we were on the grounds. It was starting to get cold. When I saw movement around. Deena had stayed in and Nate was nowhere to be seen. The first thing that came into my mind was run but somehow my feet weren’t able to move. Then when not expecting anyone or thing a man comes out from behind the bushes. I screamed. It was a loud ear-piercing scream but the grounds were so big no one could’ve heard me. The man stared at me and said quietly “Arrianna darling, it’s about time we met” what on earth was that supposed to mean? The man came near to where I was standing and I moved back until my back hit a wall and then I knew I was trapped. He came up to me and put a gloved hand to my cheek and said “oh, you look exactly like her”, who was he talking about? Then he said “don’t you remember me? I would play with you all day and then hold you all night” I just shook my head at what nonsense he was saying and then he said “come on Rina darling you have to remember” Rina? How did he know that only Nate called me that. I took a deep breath and said “who are you and what do you want from me?” “Rina! Darling! How could you say that?! I am your father!” he exclaimed. My father? Okay my father was inside the school having tea at this hour and this man claimed that he was my father? I looked closely at him and I saw distant features that were the same as me. No. this can’t be really happening I thought. Adrian wasn’t my real father? And if this man was telling the truth; did that mean this was my father? “What is your name?” the man stared at me and said quietly “André” and somehow I knew he was telling the truth but I had some other questions that I needed to figure out. Lucy! Oh my god! He must’ve had her! So I looked him in the eye and said “where’s my little sister Lucy?” André said “she isn’t your sister Arrianna” “she is how could you say that? And where is she? Tell me? Is she still alive? Is she hurt? Tell meee!” I cried “she is fine; she’s been living like royalty this past week. I have her. I took her and I wanted to keep her just as they had kept you from me!” those last words had been sharp and it showed so much hurt in them. “Come in side with me, my…” I trailed off, were they my parents? Who here was telling the truth? So the two of us walked inside the school; and were met with shocked stares and frightened glares. I took André to the office my parents were in the day. Knocking softly I was given permission to enter; I did with André bringing up the rear. The moment we entered André looked at- my dad? - And said “why hello brother, long time no see huh?” and with that he lunged towards Adrian and punched him in the face. Both me and my –mom? - screamed. Madame came in and in one second all was settled down. And the story unveils from there. My real parents André and Roza lived in Europe. Where they had me. After I was born my mother went crazy and one day almost tried killing me, the case was filed and I was taken away from them to be given to my uncle—Adrian. After that Adrian and his wife Nicolê left Europe and found sanctuary in Canada, in the school “the Keepers”. It’s where they left me to grow up and taught me many things that were useless to me. I was a born princess, both my parents had been royal but after my mother went crazy my dad’s title fell and so did everything around him. Then my mother died one day and my father went, well crazy too. First he loses his daughter than his wife. I saw a picture of my other; I look a lot like her, especially my tri-colored eyes. My aunt and uncle looked full of shame and they said how sorry they were for causing me so much pain. And I thought imagine living without your parents for 17 years; just how must that feel? I could say that I can relate but I can’t cause no matter how different my aunt and uncle were they still had loved me and did so much for me that I was grateful for. After the story was told my dad went and got Lucy; she was so happy to see me she came and jumped in my arms and started crying. However, she said she was crying that she saw me so many days after. I just held her, she may be truthfully my cousin but blood was thicker than water right? And so I kept her in my arms and said “I’ll always be here for you Luce”.

Everything was told to all the students, from the beginning to the end. Nate, Habbiah, and Deena were the most shocked and surprised. But they were happy for me. The school year went on and I graduated from “The Keepers” with peace. My family was restored, history in a way replaying. I had done research and found out that something like this had happened millions of years ago. Oh well I thought at least I had a loving father and loving friends and not to forget my loveliest sister. We spent a lot of time together my father and me catching up on many things. He said he had kept tabs of me, knowing when and where I was going who I’d be with and all. Also, the name “Rina” he would call me that when I was little and somehow Nate just thought of it too. But all in all we all lived happily together. I learned one thing out of all this though; Truth is a very strong thing. You should always tell the truth no matter how much in danger you can be. And that I learned. I never lied again and lived a happy ending.

 

By: Ira

Teardrops of my Prophet

I stood confused looking around. Where was I? My white dress swirled as I walked, the light breeze blowing my hair back. I inhaled sharply. It was...beautiful. Everywhere I looked. The green grass was so green that it made my eyes look nothing but dull. There were flowers of all colors scattered everywhere. Mountains were really tall with water flowing smoothly the way water runs down your fingers. I smiled with giddy. A beautiful garden I suppose. Throwing up my arms, I spun and spun, making my dress rise up to my knees. I was barefoot but I could care less. The grass was soft as a baby’s skin. Flipping back my curly hair, I ran through the meadow. I never wanted to leave. The sky hung low. I reached up and passed my fingers through the clouds. It felt funny I thought giggling. Softer than cotton candy. Bending down I scooped up a flower. It was a simple purple flower but there was something about it. It wasn’t fully bloomed yet. I closed my palms around it then after a thought opened it. I yelped in surprise. It sat in my hands now fully bloomed with a kind of glow around it. Wow. Everything here was so fragile and beautiful. I've never seen such beauty before. Imagine living here but... I would love living here. I really would but there’s no one here. No animals, no incest’s, no living thing. How was I supposed to live without communicating? I communicated 95% through the day. However, there was something about this place. I really couldn’t tell. Something that made me want to forget all my worries and fears. All I thought of was happiness. Memorises flew through my mind. Of the time at my birthday; best 16th birthday party ever. My dad got me a new car. And the time I was crowned prom queen. All the happy times with my family and friends. The memorises were great but it was missing something. Something of who I am. I shook my head. Oh Gosh, why worry when I can enjoy? Rising to my feet, I brushed the dirt off my dress. That's when I noticed. OhmyGod, I quickly darted to a near lake and gazed down. Wow. I was wearing the most stunning dress ever. It was pure silk and white as snow. Running my hands over it, it felt like velvet instead. There was gold trimming the neckline and the sleeves. The dress hugged around my waist the rippled down in a flow.
Humming to myself, I walked on. It was a never ending garden. Whoever lived here was so lucky. They had everything. I only had to imagine it and it would appear. On cue, I shut my eyes thinking. I opened them and looked down at my fingers and squealed. There on my hand was an amazing diamond ring. So worth it. Smiling gaily to myself I walked on and on. Then I came to an opening. It was very bright. I went inside wondering. I could now hear birds chirping. Nice. I went in further and then, I saw him. It was a man wearing a robe that was whiter than mine and looked way better.
“Hello?” I said uncertain. Was he the owner of this garden? Oh God, what if he kicks me out.
“Umm...Sir?” I inquired.
“What did I do wrong” he asked quietly.
His voice was soft and sounded like a melody; a beautiful musical instrument. He turned gracefully and faced me. I felt my heart drop. This couldn’t be real. No, it just couldn’t. I-I-, No, it wasn’t possible. I opened my mouth to say something but only a gasp came out. Standing there in front of my impure eyes, was Allah’s (swt) most beloved servant. He was...not even beautiful could describe his beauty. The glow of his face outshined the glow of the moon and the glow of all the other beauty in the universe. His hair was dark and came down to his shoulders. His lips were redder than a bloomed red rose. Every bone, every structure in his face was just perfect. He was gazing at me with such a sad look, it broke my heart. His eyes were twinkling like stars but there were wet. I realized then to my horror that there was teardrops rolling down his check. Each tear sparkled in the sunlight, like tiny crystals. I gulped. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I didn’t even know how I got the honour to stand in front of the Nabi of Allah.
You see, if standing here was Paul Wesley or some other famous person, I would’ve screamed, jumped and hugged the person. But I couldn’t move now. I was standing in front of the most beloved person in the world and I could barely make myself breath. I dropped my eyes. I couldn’t look at him. How could I? I was the biggest sinner. I did everything wrong, yet here I was. This was unimaginable. I couldn’t even dream of myself in his presences. My heart thumped rapidly, my palms getting sweaty. I glanced up and lost myself in his beauty. It knocked out such a force of me I couldn’t bring myself to look away.
“Muhammad (saw)” I whispered. I inhaled sharply. I really was here
“What did I do wrong” he repeated his voice sending a good shiver down my back. I panicked. Wrong? I wanted to suddenly laugh then. How could he do anything ever wrong? He was so pure.
“What-what do you mean. You could never do anything wrong” I said my voice barely a whisper. He looked away then.
“I must’ve. Or else nothing would be this corrupted” he replied.
I grimaced. I had a bad feeling. I shut my eyes then expecting him to yell now. I know, I would. But he didn’t. He didn’t raise his voice nor did he glare. His eyes were sad but kind. He was smiling that stunning smile that made butterflies in my stomach fly.
“What's wrong?” I asked even though I knew the answer. He sighed which made me cringed. He shouldn’t be sighing. He should be happy and laughing. He sat down and after a moment of panic thinking, I went and sat down next to him. My legs felt like jelly and the organs inside my body were screaming. I was sitting beside my prophet. It was decided. There was no way I was leaving now.
“I did everything I could” he said softly after a moment of silence. I glanced him and my heart sank. He had that sad expression on again. But he didn’t stop this time.
“I tried and did my best. Day and night I thought of you all. I gave up my sleep and free time, begging Allah (swt) to forgive you all, to grant you happiness and to guide you. I would cry and think of how you will face the day of Qiyaamah. And all you had to do was to obey Allah (swt) and follow my Sunnah. To never hurt your parents and wear your Imaan like a shirt. To not embarrass me in front of my Lord. How will I face him and watch my Ummah follow shaytaan into hell? Before I left the dunya, my only thoughts were of my Ummah” he smiled then at me, “I would do all of it again and again. My Ummah means everything to me and I cannot watch a single person burn in the hell fire. But it is so hard to watch up from here and see them mislead”.
Tears burned my eyes, my throat felt chocked up. I was speechless. His words had shattered me. He still loves us, even after all the pain we cause him every single day. He prayed for us every single day, and we cannot even send Durood on him one day. I hated myself then and everyone like me. How could we be so selfish and hurt him like that? Did we not see who he is and how much he’s done for us?
“Look” he said pulling me out of my I-Hate-myself thoughts. I followed his look and looked down. I had to clasp my hand over my mouth from screaming. From the top of Jannah, the place down below was a black hole. Everywhere was darkness. And the thing that made my blood curl was, it was all us. The Ummah. Heat flamed in my face, out of shame and I couldn’t help myself. I dropped to the ground sobbing. What have we done? After all he did. He spent his whole life praying for us, and now when he watched us, we only caused him great pain day by day.
Hands soft as a new born baby wrapped around me then. He pulled me up and gently wiped a falling tear. I expected him then to tell me its okay, even though it wasn’t. It’s what everyone does. Hide the truth. But he didn’t. Only wisdom flowed out of his beautiful lips.
“Crying is good for the heart but Tuabaa is better for the heart6 and soul”. When he said that it made me cry even harder.
“I-I-I’m so sorry. I really am. I’m a horrible person. I promise all the wrong acts I did, I never meant to hurt you and I never intended to disobey Allah (swt” I cried.
“You should always fear and love Allah (swt) and remember that I will still pray for you and the rest of the Ummah”.
I sighed. Was there anyone sweeter than him? Of course not. Then a thought sprang in my mind.
“Ya Nabi of Allah (swt)! There are good people too. Not all of them are bad. There are so many pious Molana’s and sheiks and so many of them is the walee of Allah (swt)” I told him excited.
“My Ummah” was all he said but I could hear the pride and everything else in it.
“Then why did you choose me? I am a horrible person and am not worthy of you” I told him reluctantly. I didn’t want to. I wanted him so see me as a good Muslimah and be happy with me. But I couldn’t lie. He shook his head.
“You’re heart is good. There is something in you, which Allah (swt) likes. You always seek the good in everyone and have never given up faith in Allah (swt) during the hardest times in your life. Don’t let go now either. Allah (swt) loves his slaves” he objected. A huge grin split on my face, my heart filled with joy. I’ve never heard anything better.
“I will do Tuabaa and beg Allah (swt) to forgive me. I promise you I will never hurt you again or forget my purpose of a Muslim. I will make you proud Ya Nabi of Allah (swt). I will not disappoint you and will try my best to help the Ummah” I promised. His smile was to swoon for.
“But how will I help the whole Ummah? I mean, I am just one girl” I inquired.
“Du’aa. It’s the most powerful and the most beautiful supplication ever. Allah (swt) never refuses and it can change everything”. I smiled sweetly then out of joy, I held my arms out and spun and spun......

I woke up with a gasp. I look around, holding a hand to my chest. I was once more in my jammies and in my room. A dream, just a beautiful, amazing dream. That's when I felt it. Opening my palm, I took a deep breath when I see them. There in my hand laid shiny crystals shaped as teardrops.

By: Shyra

Innocent Children of Paradise

Innocent Children Of Paradise


I am bloody

Do Not Grive; Allah (SWT) Is With Us

I am bruised
my lips are torn
my heart has been removed

Memorise flash
and take me to the past
just a few hours ago
when I thought
I'd never last

My mother clutches me
and holds me tight
in her arms
my face buried in her neck,
she tries to protect me
from all harm

Houses breaking down
and bombs falling from the sky
I don't know who to look at
and who to ask why

My mother is running now
from the guns behind
soldiers tower us
and I see that my family
I can no longer find

My mother fights hard
to get us away
but my hand slipd from her hers
and they shoot her
in my face

My scream
is a bloody cry
so loud that the slap
can't defy
and they knock me down
and in the middle of the war
there do I lie

Bodies fall to the ground
shooting spreads
blood around
hearts being scattered
from watching the loved ones
being shattered

Taking away our freedom,
leaving us no peace
killing our beloved country
is not a way to solve
not in the least

And hear I am again
lying on the ground
my whispear can no longer
be heard
my body no where to be found

My arms are broken
my time has come to an end
I may be lost
but do not underestimate me
because this is no pretend

My tears have
turn to dust
and I rise my arms
with unbeatable pain
for I must say his name in vain

And in the dark
where the killing does not stop
bodies being piled on top
I pray to God
that he saves the
Innocent Children Of Paradise


©Shahira

TEARDROPS OF MY PROPHET

         I stood confused looking around. Where was I? My white dress swirled as I walked, the light breeze blowing my hair back. I inhaled sharply. It was...beautiful. Everywhere I looked. The green grass was so green that it made my eyes look nothing but dull. There were flowers of all colors scattered everywhere. Mountains were really tall with water flowing smoothly the way water runs down your fingers. I smiled with giddy. A beautiful garden I suppose. Throwing up my arms, I spun and spun, making my dress rise up to my knees. I was barefoot but I could care less. The grass was soft as a baby’s skin. Flipping back my curly hair, I ran through the meadow. I never wanted to leave. The sky hung low. I reached up and passed my fingers through the clouds. It felt funny I thought giggling. Softer than cotton candy. Bending down I scooped up a flower. It was a simple purple flower but there was something about it. It wasn’t fully bloomed yet. I closed my palms around it then after a thought opened it. I yelped in surprise. It sat in my hands now fully bloomed with a kind of glow around it. Wow. Everything here was so fragile and beautiful. I've never seen such beauty before. Imagine living here but... I would love living here. I really would but there’s no one here. No animals, no incest’s, no living thing. How was I supposed to live without communicating? I communicated 95% through the day. However, there was something about this place. I really couldn’t tell. Something that made me want to forget all my worries and fears. All I thought of was happiness. Memorises flew through my mind. Of the time at my birthday; best 16th birthday party ever. My dad got me a new car. And the time I was crowned prom queen. All the happy times with my family and friends. The memorises were great but it was missing something. Something of who I am. I shook my head. Oh Gosh, why worry when I can enjoy? Rising to my feet, I brushed the dirt off my dress. That's when I noticed. OhmyGod, I quickly darted to a near lake and gazed down. Wow. I was wearing the most stunning dress ever. It was pure silk and white as snow. Running my hands over it, it felt like velvet instead. There was gold trimming the neckline and the sleeves. The dress hugged around my waist the rippled down in a flow.
Humming to myself, I walked on. It was a never ending garden. Whoever lived here was so lucky. They had everything. I only had to imagine it and it would appear. On cue, I shut my eyes thinking. I opened them and looked down at my fingers and squealed. There on my hand was an amazing diamond ring. So worth it. Smiling gaily to myself I walked on and on. Then I came to an opening. It was very bright. I went inside wondering. I could now hear birds chirping. Nice. I went in further and then, I saw him. It was a man wearing a robe that was whiter than mine and looked way better.
“Hello?” I said uncertain. Was he the owner of this garden? Oh God, what if he kicks me out.
“Umm...Sir?” I inquired.
“What did I do wrong” he asked quietly.
His voice was soft and sounded like a melody; a beautiful musical instrument. He turned gracefully and faced me. I felt my heart drop. This couldn’t be real. No, it just couldn’t. I-I-, No, it wasn’t possible. I opened my mouth to say something but only a gasp came out. Standing there in front of my impure eyes, was Allah’s (swt) most beloved servant. He was...not even beautiful could describe his beauty. The glow of his face outshined the glow of the moon and the glow of all the other beauty in the universe. His hair was dark and came down to his shoulders. His lips were redder than a bloomed red rose. Every bone, every structure in his face was just perfect. He was gazing at me with such a sad look, it broke my heart. His eyes were twinkling like stars but there were wet. I realized then to my horror that there was teardrops rolling down his check. Each tear sparkled in the sunlight, like tiny crystals. I gulped. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I didn’t even know how I got the honour to stand in front of the Nabi of Allah.
You see, if standing here was Paul Wesley or some other famous person, I would’ve screamed, jumped and hugged the person. But I couldn’t move now. I was standing in front of the most beloved person in the world and I could barely make myself breath. I dropped my eyes. I couldn’t look at him. How could I? I was the biggest sinner. I did everything wrong, yet here I was. This was unimaginable. I couldn’t even dream of myself in his presences. My heart thumped rapidly, my palms getting sweaty. I glanced up and lost myself in his beauty. It knocked out such a force of me I couldn’t bring myself to look away.
“Muhammad (saw)” I whispered. I inhaled sharply. I really was here
“What did I do wrong” he repeated his voice sending a good shiver down my back. I panicked. Wrong? I wanted to suddenly laugh then. How could he do anything ever wrong? He was so pure.
“What-what do you mean. You could never do anything wrong” I said my voice barely a whisper. He looked away then.
“I must’ve. Or else nothing would be this corrupted” he replied.
I grimaced. I had a bad feeling. I shut my eyes then expecting him to yell now. I know, I would. But he didn’t. He didn’t raise his voice nor did he glare. His eyes were sad but kind. He was smiling that stunning smile that made butterflies in my stomach fly.
“What's wrong?” I asked even though I knew the answer. He sighed which made me cringed. He shouldn’t be sighing. He should be happy and laughing. He sat down and after a moment of panic thinking, I went and sat down next to him. My legs felt like jelly and the organs inside my body were screaming. I was sitting beside my prophet. It was decided. There was no way I was leaving now.
“I did everything I could” he said softly after a moment of silence. I glanced him and my heart sank. He had that sad expression on again. But he didn’t stop this time.
“I tried and did my best. Day and night I thought of you all. I gave up my sleep and free time, begging Allah (swt) to forgive you all, to grant you happiness and to guide you. I would cry and think of how you will face the day of Qiyaamah. And all you had to do was to obey Allah (swt) and follow my Sunnah. To never hurt your parents and wear your Imaan like a shirt. To not embarrass me in front of my Lord. How will I face him and watch my Ummah follow shaytaan into hell? Before I left the dunya, my only thoughts were of my Ummah” he smiled then at me, “I would do all of it again and again. My Ummah means everything to me and I cannot watch a single person burn in the hell fire. But it is so hard to watch up from here and see them mislead”.
Tears burned my eyes, my throat felt chocked up. I was speechless. His words had shattered me. He still loves us, even after all the pain we cause him every single day. He prayed for us every single day, and we cannot even send Durood on him one day. I hated myself then and everyone like me. How could we be so selfish and hurt him like that? Did we not see who he is and how much he’s done for us?
“Look” he said pulling me out of my I-Hate-myself thoughts. I followed his look and looked down. I had to clasp my hand over my mouth from screaming. From the top of Jannah, the place down below was a black hole. Everywhere was darkness. And the thing that made my blood curl was, it was all us. The Ummah. Heat flamed in my face, out of shame and I couldn’t help myself. I dropped to the ground sobbing. What have we done? After all he did. He spent his whole life praying for us, and now when he watched us, we only caused him great pain day by day.
Hands soft as a new born baby wrapped around me then. He pulled me up and gently wiped a falling tear. I expected him then to tell me its okay, even though it wasn’t. It’s what everyone does. Hide the truth. But he didn’t. Only wisdom flowed out of his beautiful lips.
“Crying is good for the heart but Tuabaa is better for the heart6 and soul”. When he said that it made me cry even harder.
“I-I-I’m so sorry. I really am. I’m a horrible person. I promise all the wrong acts I did, I never meant to hurt you and I never intended to disobey Allah (swt” I cried.
“You should always fear and love Allah (swt) and remember that I will still pray for you and the rest of the Ummah”.
I sighed. Was there anyone sweeter than him? Of course not. Then a thought sprang in my mind.
“Ya Nabi of Allah (swt)! There are good people too. Not all of them are bad. There are so many pious Molana’s and sheiks and so many of them is the walee of Allah (swt)” I told him excited.
“My Ummah” was all he said but I could hear the pride and everything else in it.
“Then why did you choose me? I am a horrible person and am not worthy of you” I told him reluctantly. I didn’t want to. I wanted him so see me as a good Muslimah and be happy with me. But I couldn’t lie. He shook his head.
“You’re heart is good. There is something in you, which Allah (swt) likes. You always seek the good in everyone and have never given up faith in Allah (swt) during the hardest times in your life. Don’t let go now either. Allah (swt) loves his slaves” he objected. A huge grin split on my face, my heart filled with joy. I’ve never heard anything better.
“I will do Tuabaa and beg Allah (swt) to forgive me. I promise you I will never hurt you again or forget my purpose of a Muslim. I will make you proud Ya Nabi of Allah (swt). I will not disappoint you and will try my best to help the Ummah” I promised. His smile was to swoon for.
“But how will I help the whole Ummah? I mean, I am just one girl” I inquired.
“Du’aa. It’s the most powerful and the most beautiful supplication ever. Allah (swt) never refuses and it can change everything”. I smiled sweetly then out of joy, I held my arms out and spun and spun......

I woke up with a gasp. I look around, holding a hand to my chest. I was once more in my jammies and in my room. A dream, just a beautiful, amazing dream. That's when I felt it. Opening my palm, I took a deep breath when I see them. There in my hand laid shiny crystals shaped as teardrops.