Her eyes glimmered thoroughly, her heart swell.
"Don't go too far, Nageen!"
Her mother had called out but she pretended to not hear.
The wind blew on her face like a chilling desire to touch the little girl's pinkish cheeks, she laughed, skipping over the stones and falling purposefully on the patch between two streams of crystalline water. The mossy tablet awaited her.
Eyes as bright as the afternoon sun, she swiped the moss of the rough, cold tablet- and remembering her classes with her Nana (grandfather) she strung the letters into words till it formed sentences and if she did not get one word- she would write it down in her leafy journal with a wooden pen, and take it to her grandfather who did not question her for doing so.
For knowledge was key, and questions were maps to those keys that led to the doors of Jannah.
Somewhere in the corner of this
vast, enticing world,
Somewhere under the shades of dim lights,
In a frosty room,
A Muslimah on a prayer mat
In the middle of a dark dense, midnight
The tears cried to her Lord,
Are like pearls of forgiveness,
Rolling down the cheeks of desires
Fearing none but her Lord,
To Whom she cries about all queries,
That struggles this youth's mind
Loving utmost her Lord,
To Whom she confides
About the littlest of dreams,
To the highest of ambitions,
The lowness of her heart,
and Allah's Light that she craves for
His Guidance she needs,
For she feels,
Truly feels,
That without remembrance of Allah,
Her life is incomplete
- e . a
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Written in Stone | ✔︎
PoesíaWhen times come in the rough, the elders leave behind a carved manuscript, with words of wisdom, to help cope, with the darkness that curdles around the innocent souls When hope seems to be dying, the stone is found yet again With carved poetry...
