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Madinat al-Muslimeen Islamic Message Board
| Is there any room for my tears? |
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| Maliha |
| 10/20/03 at 04:00:01 |
| [slm] [i] Is there any room for my tears? Can I talk about that which my heart propels me to write, when my mind is full of rhetoric, jumping from topic to topic, signals bottling up that which I yearn to touch...so deep within. Serious academic scholarship was never meant for the faint of heart. Reason has got to transcend when you speak of topics that make your heart gasp in horror, recoiling in its own depths at the tragic state of humanity. Maybe I should really go in search of those endless meadows, painting the starry nights with melodies of my eternal abode, touching those depths that simply weep for the home I can’t quite recall but I always yearn to go back to. I open history books but I can’t read for my tears blotch out the inks of humanity...I trace the lines with my finger tips, gently erasing that which was written...so long ago. The inks have dried, the parchment folded, is there any room for my tears, or is it too vain for me to weep? I have never tasted the suffering that seeps salty dust through the tongues of the dead. I have never heard the heart wrenching screams of the mutilated, the dying, the loved ones of the dead. I have never touched the anguish that wrings itself round and round the pulsating depths of humanity. What have I whose mere discontents range from the downright petty to the outright superficial have to weep about? Yet I still weep. In an uncontrollable dam of tears, in moments of hopeless senselessness I weep. I weep for my vanity, for my own wretchedness, disobedience, lowliness...I weep for all that I never was, and all that I could ever be. I weep for the young whose innocent eyes I will never be able to protect, for the old whose bitter cynicism has long crystalized into the concrete paths etched onto their hearts. I weep for those lines I will never be able to erase, for the pain I will never be able to assuage, for the collective spiritual deserts whose thirsts are simply a mirror reflection of my own. I weep for the earthly burden of being that I can neither trade in, nor reject. I weep for the strength I desperately need to keep trudging on this path even when my heart is bleeding and my soles are too tired to carry me on. I weep for the fragrant breezes of His Mercy, those healing balms to penetrate the fog of my spiritual diffusion, the madness of my mental confusion, the sadness of the spirit that yearns to explore the depths but is forced to worry about the mundane... Words fall apart when meaning ceases to exist. The lines have been dictated so long ago, the inks dried, nothing is personal anymore... I am looking for a place to bury my tears. -Nur al Layl [/i] |
| Re: Is there any room for my tears? |
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| chiq |
| 10/20/03 at 14:14:41 |
| [slm] [quote]What have I whose mere discontents range from the downright petty to the outright superficial have to weep about? Yet I still weep. In an uncontrollable dam of tears, in moments of hopeless senselessness I weep. I weep for my vanity, for my own wretchedness, disobedience, lowliness...I weep for all that I never was, and all that I could ever be.[/quote] (Chord struck :'( :'( :'() Which world is madder? Which one is sadder? The third world as it eats its own in bloody conflict and treachery and grows fat on death? Or this world, drunken and debauched, fighting tooth and limb for a place in the mad race for acquisition, and more acquisition? And all the while, thousands of faceless children reach out tiny hands pleading for their connection to the world; like baby plants questing the sunlight and their niche in life’s forests. What have we to give them? A tear. The beginning of a mass of ripples once it falls into the pool that is the world, if only we let it be. An infinitesimal treasure to light the darkening horizon with the blessed torch of faith reborn. Sis Maliha you have rekindled hope in my heart :-* Jazakallahu kheiran. Wasalaam |
| 10/20/03 at 14:15:43 |
| chiq |
| Re: Is there any room for my tears? |
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| gift |
| 10/28/03 at 04:47:33 |
| [quote author=Nur_al_Layl link=board=bookstore;num=1066633202;start=0#0 date=10/20/03 at 04:00:01] [slm] [i] Is there any room for my tears? I have never tasted the suffering that seeps salty dust through the tongues of the dead. I have never heard the heart wrenching screams of the mutilated, the dying, the loved ones of the dead. I have never touched the anguish that wrings itself round and round the pulsating depths of humanity. What have I whose mere discontents range from the downright petty to the outright superficial have to weep about? Yet I still weep. I weep for the earthly burden of being that I can neither trade in, nor reject. I weep for the strength I desperately need to keep trudging on this path even when my heart is bleeding and my soles are too tired to carry me on. I weep for the fragrant breezes of His Mercy, those healing balms to penetrate the fog of my spiritual diffusion, the madness of my mental confusion, the sadness of the spirit that yearns to explore the depths but is forced to worry about the mundane... [/i][/quote] As chiq says, this really struck a chord. Our world is drowning in the tears of those who don't know, while those who do, and experience such pain have no tears left to shed. Their eyes, hearts, palms and souls bleed with pain and the neglect of their brothers and sisters. Sigh... my heart is heavy today :'(, but thanks for making me reflect Maliha. May Allah 'azza wa jall help us all. [wlm] :'( |
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