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| tracing this senseless pain... |
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| Maliha |
| 04/01/04 at 15:39:27 |
| [slm] [color=black] [i] tracing this senseless pain... sometimes i am prodded to write, urged from something so deep within, kicking and screaming, looking for a way out. When I can't seem to control this bottled up feeling that threatens to engulf me, choke me, overwhelm me, I sit down and stare at a blank slate...ready to paint fresh canvasses of my blues. Yet of what should I write? and more importantly why? to talk of mundane things like why my tears never cease to flow and why the grey clouds surrounding me, seems to emanate from my very depths. to talk of our withered history in terms not so complimentary, because we forgot. and we keep forgetting, forgetting to remember all that is worth reminiscing about... Instead we are holding on to tattered fragments, made-up delusions of a glory we ceased striving to attain, and a civilization that is muted in the ashes of yesterday's pain... in reality we exist no more... we are simply holding on to pipe dreams of a majesty, we feel entitled to, yet we'd never know. and i write, because i can't stop... i can't stop, the jagged pieces of my heart from bleeding, and i write because every little injustice i face, no matter how insignificant in the large scheme of the world, our history, humanity, is somehow a reflection of something so overwhelmingly bigger. of something that i can never spread my arms wide enough to contain... of things i can't write about, or give voice to, or even comprehend... of things so evil, so palpable, so alive, we forgot to even give them a name. and like that, we keep forgetting all that we should remember, and simply hold on, trudging, hoping, piecing together existences of shame... of men valiantly dying, killing, and senselessly butchering others in vain, of women giving freely, knowing young there's nothing to gain of children lost, wandering, crying, because someone forgot to tell them innocence is not part of this game. like that we forget all that is important, and replaced wisdom with quick fixes, and reality with escapism and somehow live, yearning, pressing, comforting, talking like someday everything will simply work out... like someday we'll wake up and remember... and remember simply that we forgot and i write because sometimes i yearn to explain, all the great things that we know exist but somehow we forgot... and ceased to struggle. and in this state of forgetting, we will simply never attain. -Maliha. [/color][/i] |
| Re: tracing this senseless pain... |
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| rkhan |
| 04/01/04 at 23:44:54 |
| [slm] [quote] like that we forget all that is important, and replaced wisdom with quick fixes, and reality with escapism and somehow live, yearning, pressing, comforting, talking like someday everything will simply work out... like someday we'll wake up and remember... and remember simply that we forgot [/quote] MaashaAllaah Maliha...that really touched a hidden spot ....baaarakallaah feeki In the face of emotions as beautiful as these...I'm hesitant to put up my own words...so Im writing an excerpt on the same subject: [i] 'David was small, but his faith was great....' I could not prevent myself from adding: And you are many, but your faith is small.' My host looked at me in astonishment, and, embarrassed by what I had involuntarily said, I rapidly began to explain myself. My explanation took the shape of a torrent of questions: 'How has it come about that you MUslims have lost your self confidence --that self confidence which once enabled you to spread your faith, in less than a hundred years, from Arabia westward as far as the Atlantic and eastward deep into China -- and now you surrender yourself so easily, so weakly to the thoughts and customs of the West? Why can't you, whose forefathers illumined the world with science and art at a time when Europe lay in deep barbarism and ignorance, summon forth the courage to go back to your own progressive, radiant faith? How is it that Ataturk, that petty masquerader who denies all value to Islam, has become to you a symbol of "Muslim revival"? My host remained speechless. It had started to snow outside. Again, I felt that wave of mingled sadness and happiness that I had felt on approaching Deh Zangi. I sensed the glory that had been and the shame that was enveloping these late sons of a great civilization. 'Tell me -- how has it come about that the faith of your Prophet and all its clearness and simplicity has been buried beneath a rubble of sterile speculation and the hair-splitting of your scholastics? How has it happened that your princes and great land-owners revel in wealth and luxury while so many of their Muslim brethren subsist in unspeakable poverty and squalor -- although your Prophet taught that "No one may call himself a faithful who eats his fill while his neighbour remains hungry? Can you make me understand why you have brushed woman into the background of your lives -- although the women around the Prophet and his companionns took part in so grand a manner in the life of their men? How has it come about that so many of you Muslims are ignorant and so few can even read and write although your Prophet declared that "Striving after knowledge is a most sacred duty for everyy Muslim man and woman" and that "The superiority of the learned man over the mere pious is like the superiority of the moon when it is full over all other stars?" ...."But -- you are a Muslim...." I laughed and replied: "No, I am not a Muslim, but I have come to see so much beauty in Islam that it makes me sometimes angry to watch you people waste it..." The Road to Makkah, M. Asad [/i] |
| 04/01/04 at 23:47:17 |
| rkhan |
| Re: tracing this senseless pain... |
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| gift |
| 04/02/04 at 03:14:47 |
| [slm] Subhanallah sisters, it is heart rending to have one's conscience awakened so. But thank you for your words. When all my tiny problems seem to be weighing me down, I always need reminding that I too will be tested as those who came before us were tested. |
| 04/05/04 at 04:11:46 |
| gift |
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