I sit quietly petting my child's hair, fingers kissing every strand. "Stay with me till I go to sleep mama" she whispers, "I love the softness of your hands".
On my knees and in the dark beside my children's bedside, I read the news, my heart pauses, my stomach tightens, the lump in my throat gets bigger, I remind myself to breath, there are more good people out there than bad. As I try to convince myself of these words, my eyes soak in a very different reality...
Tonight a muslim girl was murdered. Tonight a group of people left the mosque with hearts full of light, got plowed down after leaving late night prayers. I have a hard rock in my throat. It's fire gurgling under a thin crust, impatiently waiting to erupt a banshees' shriek of "ENOUGH!" over our planet.
Sanctuaries are things of the past. As our days get longer, and hope seems to fade, the only sanctuary from the crimes of men appear to be found soley within the arms of our sodden Earth.
May God protect us all. May hope never die. May history stop repeating its redundant self. Ameen.
Keep both eyes open, be aware because when you're not, someone else surely is.
An-Nu’man ibn Basheer reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “The parable of the believers in their affection, mercy, and compassion for each other is that of a body. When any limb aches, the whole body reacts with sleeplessness and fever.”
Source: Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī 5665, Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 2586
Peace be with you all