Monthly Archives: March 2016


Hector was an old man and he did the same old things every day.

Today he wakes up and stares at the ceiling for a full hour before he hauls himself out of bed and straight to the kitchen.

He’s making breakfast today so I’ll tend to the plants. I wonder if the cats are back, they might be dirty again after their adventuring; better clean them before they dirty the house.

He sets the plates down and sets himself down. He’s a quiet man and mealtime is the quietest of his times. He eats in silence, occasionally looking up and frowning. She hasn’t touched her food. Maybe she ate earlier. Maybe she’ll eat later. He isn’t particular about this, he believes meals can and should be eaten whenever appropriate. He is done with his food. He gets up to wash the dishes.

I can’t eat these days… I just can’t bring myself to. It’s not possible anymore. I feel fine though, so… That’s alright. Hector is done clearing up now. He’s gonna go play the piano now.

Hector hobbles happily to the piano and slowly sits on the old, creaky bench. It creaks a little but stands strong – just like Hector, perhaps? He looks over and when he thinks she’s ready, begins playing. It’s a tune the walls of the house have become so familiar with. They seem to reverberate with its sound as though singing along. It seems like every time the song is played it sounds richer, grander, yet… Strangely empty. Like reciting a beautiful poem in a foreign language, getting the pronunciations and intricacies right but not understanding a single word. That was perhaps how the house felt. It sang along but felt nothing.

I feel… I think I feel the house. But it doesn’t feel me. The music sounds good as always but why do I feel it’s forced. Isn’t he enjoying himself? Why does it seem less and less personal with every day? Is something the matter with my husband?

The song comes to its end, finally, and Hector turns slowly to face the chair. That chair that his wife used to sit in whenever he played, listening with her eyes closed and the slight curl of a smile tracing the edges of her lips. He saw all that with his mind but his eyes could not lie nor be lied to. The chair was empty, as it had been for the last ten years. Was Hector sad? Yes, a little. More than anything, he was tired.

I can see it in his eyes. He’s tired. He wants to move on, he’s accepted the truth for a long time now. He wants to move on but he can’t, because I’m not ready. I have gone but I can’t let him go. Not yet. I’m not ready. Just one more day. Please.

The old man stares blankly, waiting. Not today. He knows. He feels he thinks he yearns he sighs he waits.

_I am that old man, I am his wife. I am his thoughts, I am her dreams. I am here, and I am there. I am, and I am not.


who is i



I am not a scholar. I don’t claim to know anything. These are just words from my imagination, played out in my head by people who don’t exist, faceless, but real enough to me that I now share their story.

1: hey is it alright if I go into a mosque?
2: yup of course

1: it’s just that… We have to dress a certain way and all right? And sometimes the mosque people scold us when we don’t dress their way. Why are your people so cold…
2: a good host welcomes his guests with open arms and is gentle and kind to them. A good guest is respectful to his host. When we enter the mosque who is our host but the Best of Hosts? So we do our best to be respectful, and you don’t worry. He will look after you, fear not.


Ya Rasulullaah (peace be upon him)

This earth was brighter the moment you were born. Everything that was failing, tired and dull became abundant, lively and brilliant.

And when you left…

And when you left it was as if a permanent night had come upon the earth and the sun would never rise again.

Your companions didn’t know where to look, for your light use to fill every place they went, and your scent led them to you.

How. How to move on after all that beauty, mercy and gentleness they knew was taken away from them.

And what about us?

This world isn’t as bright as when you walked upon it…

But your light shines in our hearts and minds, guiding our actions and lives. In the little things we remember you; how you drank water, how you took care of your hair, the way in which you were so gentle and loving towards everybody.

So please Ya Rasulullaah, honour us with your presence when we close our eyes, and be with us while we are awake.

Please don’t let us live our lives without the blessing of having met you in our dreams.

Please don’t disappoint our hopes of seeing you when it comes time for our souls to he taken.

Please don’t leave us alone and afraid when we are in our graves.

Please look for us and smile in recognition when you see us on the Day of Standing.

And please intercede between us and our Lord when there is no intercession save from you, and when there is no Mercy or Shade except for His Mercy and Shade.

Ya Allaah, Ya Rabb, Ya Rahman, Ya Raheem, Ya Lateef, Ya Wadood, you have given us the greatest blessing which is to be the ummah of Your beloved, peace be upon him.

Please Allaah, fill our hearts with a love for him that brings us closer to you. You are our goal, Ya Rabb, and he is the door.

Ya Allaah, please send peace and blessings upon Your beloved, his family, companions and the righteous that followed after, forever and always.