2017: Day 4

WHAT HOLDS US INTACT, DESPITE OUR LONGING TO BREAK OURSELVES OPEN, TO RUN AWAY, TO DESCEND DEEPER INTO OUR OWN IMPERFECTION

A broken kingdom in his heart,
brave silence the cost of entry,
the language of unforgotten things
holding open the door. If, when
it happens, within the feeble light
of the moon, another lost traveler
arrives, covered in ash, asking
first for water, then which way is
the qibla — if, then tell him this:
whirl until you fall, open your
eyes, know God waits in every
direction, is already there, rooted
inside your spinning head, has been
receiving every dua never spoken,
has kept your feet from slipping,
has been there in your blood, a map
imprinted on every fiery atom of
breath gushing through your body.
Worry not, then, about being
your own king; instead, swallow
your tongue, surrender to the ache
of knowing He’d been there all
along in the land you left behind
— and He’s here now, in this un-
familiar territory you’ve come
to find, claiming it as your own.

— Faisal Mohiyuddin