I don’t like rush and haste. I don’t like pressure and hurry. I don’t like to be blindsided and ambushed. I need space, plenty of space to ground my creative energy. I need peace and quiet.
There’s like a constant dark cloud hovering over me, no matter what. It’s always there, in my peripheral view, reflected in the puddle on the street, dimming the sunshine. As if to remind me that I’m not free. I can’t stray too far from my home for fear of a downpour finding me without a shelter. Or a lightning bolt striking me. I can’t enjoy anything because I know that it won’t be long till the darkness rumbles in a distance, putting me in place. How do you outrun the sky? That’s why I love the night. No sun to remind me of what I can never enjoy, no shadow to haunt me and no visible clouds. At home in the darkness so that I don’t have to constantly look over my shoulder. Here, I surrender.
I ask Allaah for a hope in love that is robust and deeply ingrained in my heart. One that won’t budge in the face of the severest of hardships, one that won’t dim in the bleakest of outcomes. Hope in abundance, hope that leaves no room for cynicism, hope that is impervious to demonic efforts. A love that lights for those in need of light, warms those huddled in the cold, nourishes those who are starved in despair, and keeps me going on the path to Him, not veering off it for any fear or doubt. A love that imbues me with the nostalgia of Jannah, to which I’m traveling and hoping to arrive safe and sound, by the admission of al-Wadood, the Most Loving.