Steady and unrelenting, my heart beats and I am reminded of Him, subhanahu wa ta’ala. I inhale sharply and raise my head from a web of dreams, woven in my sleep. I have another day, another opportunity to worship, and another chance to remember my Maker. The water, frigid in the morning air, cleanses me and I am ready to stand before my Lord. I bury my face in my hands and thank Allah for blessing me with another day. My thumb traces the horizontal lines of my fingers and my lips motion for words of remembrance.

I was drowning in anguish and was grasping for the straws of proclamation. I looked at my reflection in the spoon nestled beside my plate; the tone of his skin was very much like mine. The wounds were still fresh and they subjugated me to replay the image of a young man, Trayvon, having to have had his life end in such a tragic fashion.

I’m all alone, no one by my side
And this is my end, the one I denied.

This is the voyage out my friends. A voyage of questions, countless decisions and unyielding certainties, but much like the saying goes, “smooth seas never made a skilled sailor”.

This is the authored portrait of a young woman, whom through growth and experiential ruminations has come to learn of herself and the world around her. She is but sixteen years old and yet, like many teenagers, she feels as though the weight of the entire world rests firmly upon her shoulders.