Lie another time
your lie will become the truth;
misshapen into grotesque images
of an alternate reality,
believed by some
and swallowed by all
as the lies you spin
spiral out of control
How long do
this charade will last?
One day soon, the dominoes will fall
The threads that
hold your lies together
an unbridled ocean of
dissolving the concoction
of your woven deceit.
The control will shatter
and with it,
Your own tongue will
to articulate the truth,
emerging from the grave,
rising from a coffin
the façade will be broken,
and it will be easy to see
beyond the smoke and mirrors.
You will burn in the
dwelling there and
eating your own tail
forever and ever,
till you are charred
You will die
a thousand times
till the trumpet sounds
for the final time.
as it does.
In this world
and the next,
when all is said and done
truth will triumph,
for truth is God.
It may be obscured,
yet it cannot be
(Edited by: F.H.M)
He was different. But not a psycho.
He was quiet. But never abusive.
He was more responsible than the other men around.
He stood on his heels for four days straight for his first-born.
He spent every penny to make things better.
He changed himself however and whenever he could. But he wasn’t a Prophet.
He was a man.
He was a father.
Then came the day of accusations.
He was called every name in the book.
He was called mentally sick.
Lies were thrown at his face, but he didn’t deviate.
He took a stand that day. But he didn’t plan anything awful.
He took a stand because there are things you shouldn’t apologize for.
You should not apologize for taking a stand… for speaking the truth… for respecting yourself… and for ending a toxic relationship…
Even after that, he didn’t run away from his responsibility of fatherhood.
He begged. He ran to courts. He went to people.
He asked God.
Things became messier and messier.
Then one day, after 1.5 years, he saw his flesh and blood. It was an extraordinary reunion at court.
Things got better for awhile.
Then again a struggle started. A war of nerves. He was threatened to be killed again. The same things with which he was threatened during the relationship and after the relationship.
Somewhere a bullet may be waiting to be entered into his skull.
That doesn’t bother him; in this so-called life, he dies daily. Yet, he forces himself to live.
What he imagines is a future: a garden full of flowers where he is giggling and running with his daughter without any fear of the unknown.
Story of Hussain and Yazid is an inspiration. It is a story of incredible power. It gives me strength to stand again and again. Just when I am about to fall, to seize, and to fail, Hussain gives me new passion.
My story is a small one. It is not a story of a Hussain standing against a cruel ruler.
My story is of Hussain standing against no one but one being. For the sake of Allah. For the sake of a future. For the sake of a generation to come.
Just like Hussain, my story is not of revenge or punishment. My story is not of a war. My story is against my own self. To make me stand again. For “her”.
Hussain was in Karbala. I am in Karbala too.
Hussain was thirsty. I am thirsty too.
Hussain was for upcoming generations. I am too.
But Hussain was from Family of Prophet. I am just an ordinary follower with an ordinary creed.
But my struggle is extraordinary.
My pain is extraordinary.
My love is extraordinary.
I am Hussain. In a different age. In a different time. Against a different cruelty.