That is Freedom

Rida F.

You say freedom doesn’t exist
Or that it means to do whatever you want –
I beg to differ.
Freedom does exist.

It exists in the time when you walk out covered from head to toe,
because you are free from the painful, the stressful shackles of society.
It started existing the day you vowed you wouldn’t let man dictate
how you acted, how you spoke, how you dressed, how you lived.

It exists in that split moment after Shaytan attacks and incites you with whispers
but you, you muster the strength to fight him back.
It exists in that little voice inside you
that nags at you to correct yourself because you are in the wrong.

It exists within the words of your Lord
when you recite them and reflect upon them.
It exists on your tongue, when you say a kind word
or are nice to someone who has wronged you.

It exists in your heart when you find yourself forgiving others
for the sake of Allah.
It exists in the place between the ground and your head
when you are prostrating to the One Who is Worthy of all Prostrations.

It exists every time you decide with a firm resolve
that you’re going to submit to the will and the hukum (command) of Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala
That is freedom.

Denial

I am a Muslim and I have died

From death I could not escape, I could not hide.

I’m all alone, no one by my side

And this is my end, the one I denied

“I’m young” I said, “not even a bride”

Perfecting my religion? I never even tried

Now shrouded in white, all along to myself I had lied

And this is my end, the one I denied

The car sped fast, flipped over the rail-side

Blood everywhere, glass shattered with the doors pried

On this world lasting forever I had solely relied

And this is my end, the one I denied

Iman so weak it could be washed away with the tide

A fitrah and mind in constant collide

Turned cheek to my beliefs, a heart full of pride

And this is my end, the one I denied

The guidance it came but I pushed it aside

I wish I could go back! By the rules I would abide

But it’s too late, now shrouded and tied

By the shades of belief I wish I could be dyed

But this is my end, the one I denied

What will I see? What will my deeds provide?

My book is closed, the well of forgiveness dried

All the intentions kept in are brought outside

And this is my end, the one I denied.

Symbol of Purity

Naima Abedin

Modesty, security, protection,
Love, respect, and deep affection.
Not a way to abuse the religion
By putting it on but not knowing the reason.

Yeah I’m not a scholar, and it’s not my place to say
But I think we all know, that that Day isn’t far away
When we stand in front of Allah and answer for our deeds
“Why did you wear hijaab” He’ll ask, and we’ll reply “my parents made me.”

Why else would you wear it, but not give it the respect it needs
By putting it on at one point, and then chucking it like a disease.
Just because your parents don’t see it, doesn’t mean He’s also oblivious;
In the end it’s His wrath you’re dealing with, not you’re parents’ vehemence.

Not only are you hurting your life in the hereafter,
But for other Muslims, you could create disaster.
Every where you go, you set an example for the Muslim population.

One ignorant act, and it’s a step back
on a hard- built positive construction.
Hijaab is mandatory for our own sake
It prevents us from sinning, and keeps us safe.

 Of course no one is perfect, but trying to be already makes you that
By mending your ways one step at time, Jannah you’ll obtain and that’s a fact.
So start with what you have: hijaab is a crucial part of our identity
Respect it and understand it, for it’s a beautiful symbol of purity.

Note: This poem is an accumulation of various accounts that the author has encountered, based off pure observation. The author has chosen to provide the ideal way forward from such a predicament.

A Stolen Glance

Ruzky ibn Aliyar

A stolen glance,
A flicker of the eyes,
A gaze upheld
When better it is to be blind.

The innocent gaze then sown as an evil seed,
Its crooked roots twisting and turning,
Fixating itself into the heart of the beholder…

The tortuous roots give rise to wicked flower,
And thorns that make the heart shudder,
And yet…
She is still beautified in his eyes…

He is captivated, enthralled, frozen stiff,
Like a boy teetering at the edge of a cliff,
Only a sheer drop in front of him,
The crashing waves curling, reaching towards him.

Reality becomes blurred yet alluring,
The great Deceiver paints him a distorted picture:
She is dazzling, blindingly enchanting,
And his eyes refuse to turn away from her.

Then shaytan sparks a fire unbeknownst to the boy,
She speaks to him and he jumps for joy.
Little does he know that his heart is becoming like a sun-scorched forest,
A heart bereft of thirst-quenching taqwa that gives life to the heart -
He is like that forest, only waiting to get burnt.

They steal the occasional conversation, making him madly yearn for more;
He becomes mesmerised by her,
And she  –well … he doesn’t know.

The shy glances become a full-blown gaze,
A tiny whisper in his heart pleads him to look away.
But he cannot, the arrows have weakened his heart,
The taqwa built up during Ramadhan seems light-years away.

He finds excuses to send her mail,
Upon desires his heart has set sail.
And to him a reply she always does send,
Funny stories, silly plans, “What did you do over the weekend?”

He is spellbound, infatuated,
Lured and ambushed by the throngs of desires, fixated.
He hurriedly looks away when he finds himself turning,
She being the orientation of his unlawful pining.

She is naturally shy and of a modest manner,
Dulcet with a doe-eyed demeanour.
She wore the hijab and he sported a slight beard
Appealing to him was her character more than her figure.
Or maybe it was shaytan just luring him deeper?

He hated himself for paving the path he now treaded,
Overpowered by an unyielding fever, he now withered.
He wished her to be his lawfully wedded,
Wishing safety from Allah’s wrath which he feared.
Overtaken by this fervour, he spent long nights in prayer,
Crying and beseeching so that she may be decreed as his beloved.

He could not bear it anymore
Many nights did he toss and turn in sorrow.
Tears rolling down his cheeks he did implore:
“O Allah bring us together in a manner that is pleasing to You,
Or my Lord help me to let this go.
I do not want to follow the footsteps of shaytan anymore.”

He wanted to end this misery
So that he could invoke his Lord with sincerity.
So he made his mind up and sent her a letter:

“What I am doing is wrong and Allah’s punishment for both of us I fear,
I want to stop this and I want to ask you about something very dear:
A big decision which makes two people end up far or near.”

And to himself he made it clear,
Away from his sins he needed to steer.
If she said yes, then to Allah belongs all Praise, the One who Sees and Hears
He would not talk to her until their parents’ permission made it clear,
And until the event which would make them lawful to each other.

But if she said no, then Alhamdulillah would he still utter.

He yearned for the days that had long gone past,
Sense of ease and peace and the joyous breaking of fast,
He longed to feel that sweetness of eman,
Envied even by the kings and khans.

The reply came and she said –no.
The boy exclaimed: “What was I thinking?
Shaytaan was taking me for a ride all along!
To an evil end and a pit of angry fire into which sinners will be thrown headlong!”

Weeks turned into months and almost a year had passed by.
Thoughts of her still refused to leave his mind
Until Ramadhan, the beloved friend, came by.
And slowly his remembrance turned genuinely to Allah, the Most Kind.

Alas, in all those hours wasted thinking about her,
He wished he could have sown his seeds for the Hereafter.
But Allah, the Majestic, and full of Power,
Tells His servants, “Do not despair,
The sins of those repentant I’ll make disappear.”

With his mind at ease and his Salah more sweet,
He strove to remember Allah in open and in discreet.
He battled with himself to lower his gaze,
Wishing to eradicate the dark spots in his heart and put taqwa in its place,

His actions he made for his Lord alone,
Seeking the countenance of Allah,
Lord of the Magnificent Throne!

—

Truly it is Allah who guides from darkness to light,
It is Allah who Provides without slight,
And it is Allah who truly Loves you the most.
Whose Countenance we seek, of the utmost delight.

Beauty Within Me

Noor Salem

They say that I’m oppressed because I cover my hair.
They are misinformed, and by that I swear;
Misinformed because they lack the knowledge that I own
Knowledge that changed throughout the years I’ve grown.
I cover my hair not by force or shame
But by obedience to my Creator, His satisfaction my aim.
My birth, life and, death are all to Him alone
That’s why my beauty to strangers isn’t ever shown.
Women are treated like sex objects, billboards, and ads
And they wonder why young girls get harassed by their dads.
They wonder why a thousand girls die every single year
Of eating disorders, as they try to impress their thinner peers.
When a size zero just isn’t good enough you know there is something wrong
Even when the girl has been thin all along.
They wonder why women are raped day and night
They don’t realize what the media’s doing  just isn’t right.

I was once a size one, and with society’s push I thought
A size zero is better, and that’s the next thing I bought.
Double zero came quite fast, and that’s when I began to think,
Is this really what I want in life, to continue to shrink?
I realized there is more to life, than beauty and my size
And that society is killing us, and it doesn’t seem to realize,
I became thankful for my religion, for I’m not judged by my face
But the true purpose: good deeds, it’s all one big race.
A race to Paradise, an option for us after we die
Of course Hell is the other, for those who continue to deny and to belie.
Why waste my time worrying about my eyeliner’s perfection,
Or the fact that I need to renew my lipstick collection?
Why deprive myself of food and have celery and carrots for dinner,
And ignore my loved ones who tell me I keep on getting thinner?
Why live my life trying to impress those around me,
When in the end we’re judged at a total different degree?
A degree based on our actions, our words, and our deeds,
A good deed would be like fulfilling another’s needs.
A deed like this of course, weighs quite heavy on the scale,
The scale that really counts, and the one we don’t want to fail.
It’s not the digits of your pounds; it’s not length of your hair,
It’s the good that you do, hear me out if you care!
We’re all going to die, and end up in the same place underground
So why sit here and try, to make this life so sound?
Why build up our wealth, our beauty, and our fame,
On the that day we are judged, all this is going to be our shame.
Allah is not going to ask me why I went from 90 to 99 (lbs)
And He’s not going to punish me because my eyes didn’t “shine”
With the so called foundation, mascara, and blush,
So girl I’m gonna tell ya, keep your words in and “hush.”

If you’re blinded from the truth, I pray for you each day
To be guided to the path, the one and only way.
For eternal bliss, eternal, yes, as in forever
So you tell me now, what’s more clever?
Living this life as if it’s going to last
Then get a smack on the face when I lay in my cast?
Or stick to my heart and follow my deen,
The deen of Islam, with belief in the Unseen?

Throughout the past few years, I’ve realized more and more,
Islam is so beautiful; it’s a total different door
Than what society perceives it to be -oppression, terror and hate,
Wake up and realize this, before it’s too late.
I am proud of my religion; it’s a protection for me
And after reading this and learning, you must have to agree!
A shout out to my friends, my family and more,
Who cover their beauty as they walk out the door.
We don’t need the approval of strangers, we don’t need their rates,
They didn’t create us and they’re not the ones to open Heaven’s gates.
Does it really make you feel good, at the whistle from the guys
As they stare your behind up and down, checking out your thighs?
Does it really make you feel good, at the winks and the flirts
Does it really make you happy? because for you my heart hurts!
You walk in arrogance, as if showing more skin means you’re better than me,
And I walk in laughter because I know you are not what I want to be.
I don’t need attention from the guys, I don’t need to sit and flirt
Because I am a human and don’t deserve to be treated like dirt.
Covering up myself makes me feel great
Knowing I’m not an object for others to use at their own rate.
I’ve gained respect for my personality from strangers all around
And that’s when I truly realized that Islam is very sound.
My name is Noor Salem, and I shout out loud,
My religion is Islam and I am very proud,
Those who hate can hate, those who lie may do
But in the end what will emerge, is everything that’s true.
I thank Allah for my religion, deep down in my heart
And I pray to stay on the path, until the day I depart.

_______________

Noor Salem is an eighteen-year-old  Muslimah who has been writing poetry since the age of seven. She plans to major in Communication and then do her Masters in Nutrition.

My Banner

The banner I hold
Is wrapped around my head,
Draped across my body
Loosely bound, wherever I tread

The banner I hold
Is intricately woven
In my speech and words
Their message golden

The banner I hold
Calls to liberation
For a people oppressed
By self-dictation

The banner I hold
Is Divinely inspired
Recorded in the Book
And through faith acquired

The banner I hold
Is not meant to deceive
Rather, its purpose
For my Lord to please

A Testimonial

It’s been a year since we have been together. It doesn’t seem that long, I know.  After a brief introduction, I was given a choice to commit to you; in my heart it was clear which way I would go.

I have come a long way from hiding you, to putting you on display.  I was really trying to make us fit, make you my own, connect with you in a special way.

As the days go by, it has been a pleasure having you around.  I feel like I have been discovering the true me. You are a constant reminder of my purpose and my responsibility.

Today I can honestly say I am more comfortable with you – you complement me well.  I think I have grown to understand why you were commanded – I understand the story you tell.

You announce to the world, who I am, who I serve, no question, no confusion on my stance. Strangers can identify me quickly from the very first glance.

I feel like I was chosen for you and you were made for me.  A plan that was written before I came into existence – this is who I was meant to be.

You signify my protection, display my honour, respect, and dignity.  Today I can say I have fallen for you, draped softly, flowing freely – beautiful simplicity….

my lovely Hijab!

Gardens, Streams and Fragrance

Zehra Agha

You Say You created us weak
What then can a helpless slave do,
If not to break down,
And surrender to You?

Where else does a beggar go to,
If not to Your door?
Overwhelmed by Your graciousness,
How can we not ask for more?

Our sins and disobedience give us reason for hayaa,
Yet Your Mercy outsources our worth;
Is it not from wisdom that RasulAllah advised
A believer to be as humble as the earth?

We struggle and stumble in Your way,
Trying to please you with deeds
With our tiny incapable hands,
Planting for the Akhirah even tinier seeds.

This hijab is but an excuse
To become from amongst Your most beloved,
To erase ourselves in this world
And be raised amongst angels, coveted.

This jilbab is but a pension;
Yet how beautiful will it seem -
After retirement to our grave
Slumbering peacefully under Jannah’s beam.

Death is the bridge to our meeting with You
Seeing Your Face our utmost pleasure
We too veiled our faces in this life,
So on that Day, You may grant us this treasure..

Please accept our incompleteness,
And in Jannah, grant us Your acceptance
Make us eternal companions of RasulAllah
Amongst gardens, streams and fragrance.

I Cover Because…

Juwaeriah Abdussamad

I cover because I am a Muslim
Not only because it’s cold;
I bear witness to the Oneness
My only true hold.

I cover because I am a Muslim
Not only when I am old;
I bear witness to a Hereafter
And to a death untold.

I cover because I am a Muslim
Not a subject to withhold;
I bear witness to Supreme Justice
Despite societal bans and polls.

I cover because I am a Muslim
The conviction stands bold;
I bear witness to the Most Merciful
And how His kindness silently unfolds.

I cover because I am a Muslim
Not a display fashion mold;
I bear witness to the Most Gracious
My identity never at stake or sold.

I cover because I am a Muslim
This is how the story goes;
I bear witness to the Most Forgiving
To guide us through our worldly parole.

Unworthy

Nida Bhatti

I am unworthy
of all that You have given to me
my life so sturdy
so privileged and free.
I cannot even begin
to count all Your blessings
I know that within
You are the cause and reason I’m living.
except I keep asking
for more and more
You keep giving
even more than before
and all You require
five times five minutes a day
for me to believe, admire
and remember You when I pray
yet, human as I am
I so often forget
to thank my Creator
that I cannot neglect.
still I fear Your rejection
hoard Your mercy
love Your divinity
because I am unworthy
of all You have given me.