From as far back as I could remember I have always been a lover of books. My mother didn't really take my siblings and I to the library, but I can recall tugging my brother's hand as I literally dragged him along in my hurry to see what books I could get my hands on.
Times have changed. Books are more readily available than ever before, and the digital world has made this even more so. Hundreds of new books are being published every year; exciting plots are dreamt up, scrawled and meticulously edited. As a publisher, I know just how much time, money and sleepless nights can go into the publishing of a new book. It's almost like seeing a foetus develop into a baby; that painstaking wait to see its birth is unimaginable, but the birth is absolutely worth waiting for.
And new books have been born. Two, in fact: Many Poetic Voices, One Faith and Many Voices, One Faith II - Islamic Fiction Stories. I can only imagine the face of my friend Linda D. Delgado when she tore open the packages of the new books she published for the Islamic Writers Alliance. Joy and elation, no doubt, and the writers who contributed to the books must be just as proud, because both books are literally works of art.
I celebrate on behalf of the Islamic Writers Alliance. Well done!
Was-salaamu 'alaikum,
Umm Junayd Editor-in-Chief, Islamic Ink
IWA Headlines
Islamic Writers Alliance Incorporated!
September 11, 2009, the IWA incorporated and is now officially known as Islamic Writers Alliance Inc.
IWA Anthologies The Poetry anthology Many Poetic Voices, One Faith produced by IWA and published by MWP (Muslim Writers Publishing), was published and released in August 2009. Complimentary copies (one each) were sent to the contributing authors, illustrators, and other professionals who made this anthology possible. The Islamic Fiction anthology Many Voices, One Faith II-Islamic Fiction Stories was published and released in October 2009. Both anthologies are available from www.MuslimWritersPublishing.com.
IWA Poetry and Islamic fiction Contest Results The winners of each category for each of the contests have been posted on the IWA website. Congratulations to all winners, especially IWA Members Marwa Elnaggar and Judy Nelson-Eldawy. Click here to read the winning entries.
Malaysian Bestseller Sis Zabrina's latest book Life is an Open Secret - Ramadan Special hit the Weekly National Bestseller List of Malaysia only two weeks after its launch. Tri-State Newspaper of NY, USA, carried a book review of the latest edition of her currently 3-book inspirational series.
Sis Zabrina is conducting research for her fourth Life Is An Open Secret book that carries a theme surrounding fundamentals that a person should have in order to attract success and wealth in their lives; while in the meantime, she is coaching another new upcoming author who writes Islamic Nursery Rhymes.
New Book on Amazon.com Sis Tazmin, a new member to the IWA, announced that her book, Secrets of a Muslim Heart, which was launched in June at the Cape Town Book Fair, is now available on Amazon.com. As a newly published writer, she is thankful for the amazing journey that her own heart searching through the writing and publishing of this book has embarked her upon.
As a dedication to her sisters worldwide, Sis Tazmin has beautifully and artfully put together some of her own heartfelt insights and discoveries in an enlightening collection of poetry and prose in one edition. For more glimpses of this wonderful journey for all, or to contact Sis Tazmin, visit her website: www.tazminmahomed.com.
Illustrator's Website Updated Sis Shirley Gavin Anjum, IWA member and illustrator, has recently updated her website that showcases samples of her work.
Some of her work includes the illustrations for the comic strips published by Sis Widad, as well as Sis Widad’s activity book published in accompaniment to her Islamic Rose series, Grandma & Hijab-Ez Activity Book, plus illustrations for a recently published poetry book The Beautiful Names by Saaleha Bhamjee. In addition, she did the cover designs for the following books: The Gift by Zaipah Ibrahim, Silence by Jamilah Kolocotronis, The Size of a Mustard Seed by Umm Juwayriyah, Muslim Teens in Pitfalls and Pranks by Maryam Mahmoodian, The Beautiful Names by Saaleha Bhamjee, Sophia’s Journal: Time Warp 1857 by Najiyah Diana Helwani, Ripples by Jamila Kolocotronis, Saying Goodbye by Linda D. Delgado, and Star Writers by Amatullah Al-Marwani.
To learn more about her work or to see some of her beautiful and intriguing samples, or to simply have the chance to contact her, please take a look at her recently updated website: www.zatoon.com
Good News after Quitting Smoking
Irving Karchmar, author of Master of the Jinn: A Sufi Novel, is proud to announce that his poem The Moon is Always Full has been published in the recently released IWA Poetry Anthology Many Poetic Voices, One Faith. He is also pleased to announce that this announcement itself comes a full six months after his cessation of smoking. We all pray that Allah will give him the strength to carry on, in his writing and in a non-smoking life.
Additionally, Master of the Jinn: A Sufi Novel, is scheduled to be translated into Bengali language. The contract was negotiated in August 2009, and is scheduled for completion sometime in 2010. Also, the German translation of Master of the Jinn, titled Meister der Jinn, will be one of the books displayed by the publisher at the Frankfort Book Fair.
Book Signing Event
Sis Jamilah Kolocotronis, author of the five-part Echoes seriesannounces that she has been engaged for a book-signing event at Morris Book Shop in Lexington, Kentucky on November 22, 2009. For more about her work, visit her website: www.jamilahkolocotronis.com, or visit her blog: www.faithechoes.blogspot.com.
Glowing Review by Grand Mufti of Jordon
Sis Mehdad Maryam Sinclair announces the recent publishing and release of her book A Trust of Treasures, by Kube Publishers, UK, illustrations by Angela Desira and celebrates the final recording sessions for the CD A Mercy to the Worlds, the Coming of Mohammed, which has received a glowing endorsement from the Grand Mufti of Jordan.
Although her work is listed with Amazon, there has apparently been some mistakes and misinformation regarding availability of stock as well as pricing. For some more correct information regarding this as well as an insight into more of her work, visit her website: www.nuralqasas.wordpress.com.
Transition into the World of Published Author Sis Enith Morillo has made the transition into the world of published author; two of her poems, Towelhead and Khula are featured in the newly published IWA poetry anthology: Many Poetic Voices, One Faith.
In addition, The Message International magazine, June/July 2009 issue, published an article written by Sis Enith, titled Gaps in Academia: Rethinking Education in America, based on a session by the same title from the ICNA-MAS Convention 2009 featuring Dr. Dalia Mogahed, among other renowned speakers.
Sis Enith was also named the Media Liaison for a newly formed program under the Rhode Island Council for Muslim Advancement (RICMA)- “Healthy Families Initiative”. She has been actively working on press releases, articles and the recent nomination (and victory) of the initiative’s founder to the Northern RI YWCA Women of Achievement Award 2009. www.ricma.org/hfi.htm
Poetry Successes
Sis Camilla Sayf is proud to have some of her work included in the IWA poetry anthology, Many Poetic Voices, One Faith. Sis Camilla has also had an essay and haiku poetry published at www.simplyhaiku.com. She has a Haiga showcase at The Green Leaf gallery, http://thegreenleaf.co.uk/HP/Duets/01/CH.htm.
New Edition to Iqra! Editing Team
IWA Secretary, Balqees Mohammed, is now a member of the team at Iqra in producing the Islamic Newspaper Iqra!. In the latest issue, she contributed some articles, and has a role to also re-write and copy-edit articles. To view this latest edition, visit: http://issuu.com/iqranewspaper/docs/iqra-ramadan1430.
Marketing Article Published
Financial Officer of the IWA and owner/operator of Muslim Writers Publishing, Linda D. Delgado, is the publisher of the IWA's two anthologies. Linda wrote a promotional marketing article for Many Poetic Voices, One Faith and Many Voices, One Faith II - Islamic Fiction Stories. The article was mailed to 20 Muslim retailers announcing the release of the new books.
Sis Linda also announced the recent publishing of her monthly FOCUS column in the October 2009 edition of Crescent Times of Australia, titled Do I Live in Your Community? To view this and some of her past articles, log into the website: www.crescenttimes.com.au.
Busy Homeeducating Mom
Sis Zohra Sarwari is working on the release of Traitor?, which isa true story about brother Mustafa (A.K.A--T.J. Holdbrooks), the brother who was in Guantanamo Bay as an America Soldier, and found Islam. It is reportedly a powerful story and well written.
Sis Zohra has also conducted two radio interviews for the book NO! I AM NOT A TERRORIST, and attended the Journey of Faith Conference, which took place in July. Many reputed contemporary scholars were in attendance, and she apparently gained much from their presentations and lectures.
Sis Zohra has completed 12 more YouTube Videos, which will be available for viewing once the editing process is completed; she has already produced and aired 32 videos. Log onto http://www.youtube.com/user/9StepsCoachingfor viewing.
And Introducing...
This is your chance to learn about some members of IWA, and in this issue we have...
Linda D. Delgado
Linda D. Delgado, known by many as Widad, is a Muslim revert, the mother of three, grandmother of eight, and great grandmother of one sweet granddaughter. She is a graduate of the University of Phoenix and retired as a Sergeant in 2000 from the Arizona Department of Public Safety. Widad is an award winning author and the owner-publisher of Muslim Writers Publishing: a traditional Muslim publishing house.
Her current goals are:
increase the number of quality Islamic fiction books for youth and high school level teens in Islamic school libraries and increase the number of Islamic fiction books used in Islamic schools’ Language Arts programs.
bring awareness to Muslim publishers of the need to publish quality Islamic fiction books written by Muslim authors for youth and high school students/teens and teacher study guides to be used in Islamic school classrooms to meet State and Federal educational requirements and most importantly to benefit our Muslim children.
bring awareness to Muslim retailers of the need to list, stock, and sell quality Islamic fiction books written by Muslim authors for youth and high school students/teens and make available to school administrators the teacher study guides to be used in Islamic school classrooms in order to meet State and Federal educational requirements and most importantly to benefit our Muslim children.
Mariam Akabor
Mariam began writing at a very young age. She is the author of five books, the latest being a collection of short stories called Flat 9 (umSinsi Press, 2006), which has been approved as a high school reader in one of the provinces in South Africa. Whilst still in high school, she created and edited the teenage writers newsletter, Ink-links, for high schools in KwaZulu-Natal, which was endorsed by the KZN Department of Education. Mariam writes using the right-brain method that she has learnt from author/publisher Felicity Keats. As an undergraduate, she was selected as one of the top five creative writing students in her second year English class. She has edited and wrote articles for the Islamic newsletter at university.
Currently, she edits the Dancing Pencils Club Magazine, a quarterly creative writing magazine available to members of Dancing Pencils Writing Clubs in and out of South Africa. She hopes to complete a novel one day. Apart from writing, she loves reading books and enjoys surfing the net and graphic design. She has an interest in Islamic Mysticism and anything historical.
Maryam Mahmoodian
Maryam Mahmoodian is the author of Muslim Teens In: Pitfalls and Pranks. She is a Muslim-American, born and raised in the US with an Iranian father and an American mother. She currently works as a family physician in Lincoln, Nebraska, where she lives with her husband.
The Tip Off
The IWA has a wealth of members with inside knowledge about the writing and publishing business, and The Tip Off is where you'll get exclusive writing and publishing tips and advice.
In this issue, Balqees Mohammed provides food for thought for budding writers and Umm Junayd turns fiction writing on its head!
In this issue Balqees Mohammed reviews 'Between Love, Hope & Fear'.
Have you ever wanted that perfect all – encompassing book which not only teaches good and Islamic morals without out-rightly teaching, and yet entertains at the same time?
The Reflections section is the hub for non-fiction pieces and essays. In this issue Irving Karchmar provides a narrative about Divine Love, and Saba provides a reminder on the importance of duty to parents when they grow old.
InkSpots Islamic Ink's Spot to highlight IWA members' publications.
Many Poetic Voices, One Faith Islamic Writers Alliance
$8.95
Many Poetic Voices, One Faith is your window into the world of Islam through poetry! Come on in and find out what’s waiting here for you inside the attractive cover designed by talented IWA member artist, Nazaahah Amin.
Many Voices, One Faith II: Islamic Fiction Stories Islamic Writers Alliance
$12.95
Today’s world is indeed a global village. The wonders of technology in communication and travel have cut through the distant miles which used to separate us from one another. Many Voices, One Faith II – Islamic Fiction Stories is a literary example of the small world we are all a part of, showcasing the talents of the Islamic Writers Alliance membership which reach around the globe in their respective residences and origins.
The Gift is a love story set in exotic Asian Malaysia. The Gift is a story about a mother’s last wish for her son - a gift of a new life. Her gift opens up buried unresolved pasts, hurts and wounds of two young people. Accepting the gift leads them to finally come to terms and resolve their past lives. The gift that comes from a mother’s heart brings two people’s hearts together while their memories of a mother’s love lives with them forever.
The aroma of sugar and spices mix to enhance the Muslim celebrations of Eid Al-Fitr and Eid Al-Adha. "Sensational Eid Sweets" by Corey Habbas seeks to enliven the senses with sweet dessert and main-dish recipes.
Rahma's family is preparing for Eid and she has been looking forward to making samosas all week. Grandma, who is visiting, realizes that her precious gold ring has gone missing. Will Rahma find her grandma's precious ring?
Islamic Writers Alliance PO Box 299 Sunbury, PA 17801 USA
Write to the Editor!
What did you think of this issue of Islamic Ink? You are the one who can help shape the magazine, so I'd love to hear your thoughts! Write to me at: magazine@islamicwritersalliance.net
~ Umm Junayd
The Tip Off
Settling by Balqees Mohammed
Let it set. These very concise words, this short phrase, simply give the impression of settling. When a muddy pool of water settles, the dirt eventually goes down, being attracted by gravity, and the water above turns clear and calm. You need the water itself to remain calm for the settling effect to even take place.
When we make tea or coffee, it is usually best to drink it after it has set a bit. The liquid itself turns into a more concentrated resulting beverage, all the while becoming clearer, letting the excess particles settle to the bottom of the pot. And if the coffee pot is on a burner, the liquid in the pot not only concentrates a bit more, but it may remain hot or even get hotter, as the heating plate continues its steady, slow heating.
Even cooked food is many times better once it's settled a bit after cooking. The remaining liquid usually evaporates off, and the resulting product is a clear, clean plate of food to offer up for dining.
A similar process can be applied to our writing, and many times it is wisest to do so. Just let it set a bit. Give yourself some time to review the end product before sending it off for publishing. Edit out any typos, and then let it set for another review in an hour or so, or even another day. Go back to it in a couple of days, and re-read the piece with a new viewpoint, or at least being able to stand back a bit.
For so many of us writers, whatever we write becomes our child. We become rather protective of it, not wanting to hear any criticism, or perhaps cringing at the criticism when we do hear it. It just doesn't rub right. But to hear such criticism is part of the growth process, for us as well as our compositions. And if we give it the chance to settle a bit before turning it in for publication, we give it the chance for growth. And when we give our composition the chance for growth, we are in effect giving ourselves the chance for growth and improvement as well. And as it is with our own children, sometimes we need that criticism to make ourselves firmer on the road to improvement.
In creative writing courses - especially those for fiction writing - we are always told to outline our stories with: Beginning - Middle - End.
This formula, the basic structure of a story, allows for the story to be mapped out, and helps the writer plan the story in some sort of logical sequence. But what happens when you flip the coin and turn the formula on its head? You get: End - Beginning - Middle.
Now, before anyone thinks that I've got a few screw loose in my head - which my husband would wholeheartedly agree with, mind you - let me tell you how I know my brain-child formula actually works.
Last year, I was invited to conduct a creative writing session with girls at a youth club in London, UK. The night before, while planning the activity I would do with them, I heard a 'ting!' - it was my idea light bulb coming on in my head. So I planned the activity, and couldn't wait to do try it with the girls.
During the session I held strips of paper in my hand, and asked the girls - who were in groups of two - to choose a strip of paper. On each strip was the end of a story. Yes, the girls thought I was mad too, but I told them to write the outline of the beginning and middle, which eventually lead to the end they have. And so they went to work. I was unsure about what they would come up with, but I was ecstatic with the results of the activity. The stories were so well thought out, and who would have thought that this ending:
"I love you too," he whispered in her ear, and snuggled up for the most peaceful night he would have for the last five years. "It's great to be back."
... Would have a sci-fi beginning and middle? I certainly didn't, and although the girls who received that ending were too coy and giggly to read the ending aloud with a straight face, they proved that my end to beginning formula can spark some fantastically exciting stories.
Promoting Between Love, Hope & Fear by Balqees Mohammed
Title: Between Love, Hope & Fear Author: Various talented writers Publisher: An-Najm Publishers
Have you ever wanted that perfect all-encompassing book which not only teaches good and Islamic morals without out-rightly teaching, and yet entertains at the same time? Between Love, Hope and Fear, an anthology of poems and short stories all encompassing an Islamic theme surrounding these three emotions and how we relate to our Creator through them, is a magnificent and refreshingly entertaining collection showcasing authors and poets from nearly all corners of the globe.
An-Najm Publishers, owned by Sis Umm Junayd, who is also a member of the IWA and the current IWA Web Admin as well as Editor-in-Chief of Islamic Ink, the quarterly magazine showcasing IWA talent and IWA news updates, published this wonderful anthology in 2007, all proceeds from the sales of which went towards supporting Lewisham Islamic Centre, U.K.
Not able to describe the book any better than its own introduction, I have opted to share with you an excerpt from the book itself:
“The heart is like a bird: love as its head and its two wings are hope and fear.”
Ibn Al-Qayyim, Madarij al-Salikin
Can you imagine a bird without one wing, or worse still, without its head? Such a bird would be considered incomplete and devoid of all good. So too are our acts of worship. The lack of any one of the three motivational factors: Love of Allah, Hope in His Mercy and Fear of His Punishment would leave our acts of worship incomplete and lacking. The poetry, short stories and essays compiled in this anthology each focus on either one of these elements, highlighting the importance of the need for the other two. The final poem succinctly draws upon each of these elements of worship, and it is our hope that what is contained henceforth will bring you closer to achieving the great success in your acts of worship: balancing them Between Love, Hope & Fear.”
The content within has been authored by several of our IWA members, namely Umm Junayd, Amatullah Abdullah, and Balqees Mohammed. In addition to these three IWA members, Between Love, Hope and Fear showcases the talent of many other internationally dispersed writers.
Truly an enjoyable and enlightening read, Between Love, Hope and Fear also proves to be a possible dawa tool in demonstrating that Islamic learning and the teaching of Islamic morals does not have to be boring for the reader or the learner. A true pathfinder that features Islamic fiction, Between Love, Hope and Fear would be a truly beneficial addition to any home’s library, one of those rich treasures that is loved to be read over and over again rediscovering the beauty of it with each successive read.
For information on how to purchase Between Love, Hope and Fear, please log onto the website: www.An-NajmPublishers.co.uk.
My wife grew up on a farm, and has an unerring affinity with nature in its most organic forms, with plants and animals and humans. Last summer, for instance, when she noticed that the bittersweet vines were extending its tendrils and choking off the rose bushes, she devoted many hours to cutting them away. The next day she looked at the roses for a moment and smiled, “They’re happier now,” she said.
She had seen the roses become happier. Even knowing this about her, it took me a long time to realize that the woman I live with is a healer. I had known her only as a mother and recently a grandmother, whose fierce love for her children caused them always to seek out her presence and her comfort and her counsel. I have seen that same love for her granddaughter; her endless patience in playing a game or reading to her, giving her leeway to set her own course, but always with a keen and watchful eye. They delight in each other beyond the need for words.
This true core of love, which is the deep well of her being, is the essence of healing, I think. At a wedding recently, while helping the bride to get dressed, she healed both the bride of badly bruised ribs and the bride’s sister of chronic neck pain, by laying her hand precisely on the injured spots for many minutes. They could not stop talking about it afterwards. When I asked her how she did it, she paused, as if trying to find the right words. Finally, she said, “The pain called to my compassion.”
“The pain called to my compassion.”
This is the deep well of love which marks a natural healer. Jesus healed the sick through this all-embracing love; the pain of the world calling to his compassion.
Many Sufi Masters of the past, who had completed the path of Love, were said to possess healing powers. And in the presence of my own Master, I have often felt a powerful spiritual energy and uplifting of the heart, an immense wellbeing of life. Perhaps healing itself is a spiritual uplifting on a physical level; the energy of the compassion of love healing physical pain.
It is no accident that passion is the root of compassion, whose original meaning was to suffer together. This com-passion, this deep, empathic, encompassing love is both the goal and the result of walking the Sufi path; at each step another drop is poured into the heart, and as love enters, one begins to see God in all of His creation. Perhaps healing is simply God’s Love expressed in the form of this compassionate energy, moved from one human being to another.
Compassion is love moved forward.
And healing is the divine spiritual energy of that love responding to emotional or physical pain. Healing through compassion is an ancient concept, though I had no frame of reference for it until I met my wife. There really is no mystery to it. I would not even call it a miracle, except insofar as all human life and its capacity to love is miraculous; a Divine gift unlike any other, and from which all mercy flows.
A man came to Allah's Apostle (saw) and said, "O Allah's Apostle! Who is more entitled to be treated with the best companionship by me?" The Prophet said, "Your mother." The man said. "Who is next?" The Prophet said, "Your mother." The man further said, "Who is next?" The Prophet said, "Your mother." The man asked for the fourth time, "Who is next?"The Prophet said, "Your father."
When we were young, our parents gave not only their love, but their tireless efforts to raise, nurture and care for us. They (especially our mothers) spent sleepless night caring for us when we were sick or simply scared of the dark. Our fathers spent the best years of their lives working hard, struggling, making sacrifices so that we could live comfortably and have everything we need to succeed in this life and the hereafter often forgetting to take care of themselves. Allah (swt) says, 31:14 “And [God says:] ‘We have enjoined upon man goodness towards his parents: his mother bore him by bearing strain upon strain, and his utter dependence on her lasted two years: [hence, O man,] be grateful towards Me and towards thy parents, [and remember that] with Me is all journeys’ end.
As we get older and they get even older, the roles must change, it is we who should care for our parents. But sadly, many adult children often forget the hardships their parents went through and instead of caring for their parents when they become old, they stick them in homes for the elderly. Some are left to live on their own without hearing from their busy, career-minded kids. But even after all they have done for us, how many actually complain when left in nursing homes or on their own. Even after all they have given us, they still want what is good for their children, and most will prefer to stay in nursing homes so as not to be a burden on their children.
My mom used to always say, "I don't want to be a burden on you when I get old, from today, you have my permission to put me in an elderly/nursing home. I want you to be able to live your life." I used to cringe every time she said it. How could I, as a believer, abandon her like that, it was unthinkable. The thought of her being sick or dying alone without her children by her side was appalling. When the time came and she became ill, everything in my life was put on hold. She came first. My loving care, strong back and a gentle shoulder were now hers for the taking just as her loving care, strong back and gentle shoulder were mine as a child. Sleepless nights were long over due. I can remember her falling asleep holding my hand and every once in a while I could feel her squeeze my hand to see if I was still there. As she was there for my first breath, Alhamdulillah, I was blessed to be with her for her last.
Our parents are a mercy from Allah (swt) as we are a mercy to our parents from Him. I can't imagine how my life would have been without my mom always being by my side. I was blessed to have been able to be by her side on her final journey to Allah (swt). May Allah (swt) reward her for all that she did for me, my family and every soul (needy or not) who crossed her path. May He cover her with His shade of Mercy and Jannah. Ameen
Something to remember from the Qur'an and the Sunnah:
"For your Sustainer has ordained that you shall worship none but Him. And do good to [your] parents. Should one of them, or both, attain to old age in thy care, never say "Ugh" to them or scold them, but [always] speak to them with reverent speech." (17:23)
Anas bin Malik narrated that the Prophet (saw) said, "The biggest of Al-Kaba'ir (the great sins) are (1) to join others as partners in worship with Allah, (2) to murder a human being, (3) to be undutiful to one's parents (4) and to make a false statement," or said, "to give a false witness."
Love your parents, be kind to them, and care for them. One day they will return to Allah (swt), spend as much time with them as possible. May Allah (swt) bless all our mothers and fathers.
As an actress, I’ve often surprised myself in a way that I thought I would never do; at the click of a finger I can weep fervently like a widow, then within seconds I can be as jovial as a clown. Yet today, now, I’m unable to control these tears. Where have they come from anyway? Has my sadness become so compound that my body is ejecting all liquid substances through my eyes? Or is it that I am now crying for the world – the entire human population’s tears have gathered to form a burdensome reservoir which my overwhelming eyes can no longer contain? I never knew that one could produce so many tears and I’m unsure of how to control them.
I should have seen it coming. But blindness is a deadly trait of that feeling - that emotion - the one they call love. Yes, I thought I was in love. I must have been at some point. It’s not just anyone who can pry open this hard heart of mine actress, lap up all the love it has to give, then simply dash it into the trash. But then again, ‘Umar wasn’t just anybody. He was the man I wanted to marry. The man who whispered promises of escapes to the tropics; timid waves tickling one’s feet. ‘Umar’s a handsome man; stark contrasting features – almost sinister – but a handsome man. Now he says he’s a changed man. A devout man. No longer devout to his whims, he says; the very same whims that drove him to clasp me with his heart. Now he’s a man devout to God. And where am I to go? What am I to do with my nights of solitude, but cry? I can no longer drench my pillows with tears. The wound is fresh and has yet to heal; I fear that my lone heart may fall prey to another attack.
“Come with me,” he whispered finally.
I longed to go with him. Anywhere. I’d do anything.
“Come with me.”
“To where? Where shall we go?” I asked in desperation.
“Come with me to find the way of Allah,” he asked, his eyes twinkling in anticipation of my response.
“To the way of Allah?” I was confused. How could he ask such a thing from me, knowing the background from which I came; knowing the sacrifices I made for him? Surely he did not expect me to go back. But he did.
I stared into his rich brown eyes – those eyes that had devoured me - and tried to imagine what he was thinking; imagine exactly what he wanted from me.
“Just come with me,” he whispered once more. A deep whisper of love and want, just not as deep as my adoration for him.
“I can’t,” I choked, turning my head away from his, “I can’t go back there. It hurts too much.”
It’s too late to go back. The past is irreversible and it clings closer to me than my shadow. I was told. I was warned, “Nafeesah, you’re a delicate pearl. Don’t run after that which will not treat you like one.” But ‘Umar treated me like one. They thought otherwise because he wasn’t a Muslim. “How can one who associates partners with Allah love you like he should? He does not fear Allah as he should, so how can you guarantee that he’ll not mistreat you?” These were the words of my father when I expressed my desire to be with ‘Umar. I wanted his approval; his blessing. But I received nothing but warnings and admonition.
How can I go back and tell them they were right? Not that he mistreated or abused me in any way, but that he was abandoning me - leaving me for a greater love. How can I face them after I threw away that which I was raised upon for the promises of eternal companionship and love of an Arab Christian? I turned my back against them – turned my back against Allah – simply to be with this man. Now this man has turned his back against me to return to Allah.
“Why now, ‘Umar?” I pleaded.
“Now’s the time, Nafeesah. Allah had been showing me His signs for years, and I did everything in my power to dodge them. My heart, Nafeesah,” he pointed a smooth finger at his chest, “it can’t dodge them any longer.”
“But why now? Why didn’t you accept these signs before? Why do you tell me now, after I sacrificed Islam for you?”
He turned away. He can’t be hurt. I’m the one hurting.
“You did wrong, Nafeesah. What you did was wrong,” he said softly, his back still facing me.
“I did wrong?” I screamed, as I yanked him round to face me, “I did wrong? How dare you say I did wrong when it’s you who has wronged me! You promised me everything, ‘Umar, and I held onto them as though my life depended upon them. Not once did you complain then, ‘Umar, not once did you complain and now you tell me that I did wrong?”
He stared back at me with burned brown watery eyes. He was hurting.
“I thought you loved me, ‘Umar,” I whispered, holding back a torrent of eminent tears.
“I do. That’s why I’m asking you to come back with me.”
“But how?” I sobbed, burying my face in my hands.
“By re-affirming your faith in Allah and asking Him for forgiveness.”
“It’s too hard, ‘Umar. It’s too hard.”
I can’t return. I’ve been disowned by my family. They hate me for what I did. It’ll be too painful. But he told me to think it over. So here I am, unable to control my emotions and the never-ending flow of tears. If I go back, who would it be for? Allah or ‘Umar?
I pick up the phone and call Rahma, my elder sister. She was the last to stop talking to me. We were closer than yarn knitted in a hat, but I guess she crumbled under the mounting pressure from our family. If anyone will take me in, it’ll be her.
“Hello?” I hear a curious voice say on the other end of the line. I remain silent. What shall I say?
“Hello?” The voice repeats, louder and stronger.
“Hello Rahma,” I muster, “It’s me, Nafeesah.”
“Nafeesah?” She cries, a hint of anger tinged with disbelief resonate in her voice.
I sob. I can’t do this. It’s too difficult.
“Nafeesah. Oh, Nafeesah.”
“Rahma,” I manage to blurt between sobs, “Rahma, I’m lost.”
“Nafeesah, darling. I think you’ve been lost a long time.” She pauses for a few seconds. “What’s happened?”
“I…” I begin, unsure of how to tell her. “I… I want to come back.”
Silence. I’ve always hated silence. I’d rather someone scream at me at the top of their voice than torture me with silence. Rahma’s lack of a response strikes fear into my heart: She’s going to reject me.
“Come back where?” She asks finally, soft yet firm.
“Come back to Allah,” I whisper.
It’s Rahma’s turn to sob and she does so for a very long time. I know I’ve caused her a lot of pain in the past. Being only two years my senior, she had always been my role-model and we did nearly everything together. We shared our headscarves and would often playfully act as identical twins – we were the true Sister Act. When I confessed my desire for ‘Umar she tried all her best efforts to keep me upon the path of Allah. Still, I refused and chose to go with ‘him. Here I am now, pleading, begging for her to take me back; wanting for Allah to return me to His Path.
“I was stupid, Rahma. Real stupid.”
“Has ‘Umar left you? Is that why you wanna come back?”
“Yes and no.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Nafeesah,” she says plainly.
“’Umar’s changed, Rahma, and,” I sigh, not quite knowing what to say, “And when he told me, I screamed at him for dragging me away from Allah. Dragging me away from you.”
“So he’s left you.”
“No, not really. He wants me to come back with him.”
“To where?”
“To the path of Allah.”
She gasps. She must be as surprised as I was when he told me. After all, he was known to take his faith seriously, but I was his weakness. He knew that as a Muslim, I couldn’t be with him, and that a woman from within his own faith would be his best match. Despite that, our hearts were intertwined – two branches that sprouted from the same trunk of our very own tree of love. Birds would send silent messages with each heart beat, and often neither of us uttered a word to express the feelings we had for one another. We could feel it, and our hearts would beat in unison confirming what the other felt. However, this has set to change and my branch is on the verge of snapping off from the lightning strike that’s hit it. I’m barely hanging on, but the winds are changing quicker than I know how to deal with. I have to go back.
In the pleasure of my solitude I wait for you
Alone but not lonely
I gather my thoughts
Rest
Mundane chores no longer amuse
Nights no longer filled to keep me from myself
You are an island in the stormy sea
I take refuge on your shore
Your trees shelter me from rain
Your fruit soothes my hunger
Your birds sing of love
I know I must face the sea again
Travel on its waves
Succumb to its strength
Lose myself in the arms of its cold embrace
But as I swim
At times too weak to stay afloat
At times pulled under
Choked by the salty water filling my lungs
I know that you wait for me
With soft warm sand to heal my wounds
A cool breeze to caress tired limbs made weary by each stroke
Content
I nap beneath the velvet blue sky
Blanketed by the sun
Like a lullaby
Waves break gently on your shore
So in this night of solitude
As the rain falls softly
Almost imperceptible to wandering thoughts
I forget how each drop was like an arrow
Piercing my grieving soul
Reminding me that no wall can keep this world at bay
How unspoken conversations brought no comfort
And hands could never wipe away all the tears that fell
I look boldly at the clock
No longer yearning for sleep
Momentary peace
Escape from the mocking silence of the night
Time is still my enemy
But moves too quickly now
Hours pass like seconds in the safety of your love
And in this solitude
I struggle to remember
The pain that once let me know I was alive
Shipwrecked
I gaze at the sea of humanity
Toss the unlit flares and smile as they sink in the cold dark water
No boat made of wood and steel can match the ocean's wrath
Only this island
Where waves break gently on the shore
I tried to catch You in my net
Hoping to fill the empty cage in my room
To bring me joy in the dark and lonely hours of the night
But you easily escaped
Soaring high above my reach
How I wish my feet were not so firmly planted on the ground
I am told if I seek your song
Or take pleasure in your capture
I will never behold your beauty
For You cannot be fooled by selfish desires
Or caught by unworthy hands
I am told to wait patiently in the house I built
Until the walls come crumbling down
Until the earth buckles beneath my feet
Until no sweeter song than silence fills my heart
There
Amidst the rubble
A stranger will find Peace above the stars
