SHARDS OF IMAGINATIONS
He glanced down to hide his furrowed eyebrows and tense jawline. He started shuffling the loose stones with his shoes, on the pavement where we stood. The sky was bathed in a soft orange hue by the setting sun. I made a mental note to make it home before maghrib. He looked up at me, with apologetic eyes, as if they were saying ‘ there’s so much I want to say but don’t know how’. We were teetering on a line where we’d either fall into a bottomless realm, or part as strangers. The line was where his guard ended and vulnerability started. He was fiddling with the metaphysical line, not sure whether he could trust me or not. We locked eyes again, and doubt was written all over his face. I was something dangerous.
I really had to go, so I broke the silence
Listen. I have to go. I know that you’re wondering if you can trust me 100%, if the leap is worth the risk. Ultimately, that’s a choice you have to make on your own. —
He tried to interject. Let me finish, I said motioning with my hand.
I can’t rid you of doubts, because that’s essentially you mistrusting your own intuition. But ask Allaah about me. He sees what I hide. He knows what I’m really about, when no one’s watching. Ask Him.
I could see the clouds of worry dissipate from him, and his face relaxing into a smile. I quickly said bye and took off before he had a chance to respond.
I just wanted to go home and cry from the sheer pain of baring my soul that way.