Speaking to the Sky.

Everything is so busy. I stopped for a moment. Breathed in the mystical air of day meeting night, and looked up to the sky – ever changing in those moments, a myriad of watercolour; strokes being brushed, swaying this way and that, before my very eyes.

I closed those same eyes for a moment and I could feel the presence of my Lord with me, urging me to speak to Him – although He already knows what is in every heart.

So I did just that. I opened up my eyes, seeing the world in all the beauty that it is, and gently, I spoke to the sky. The neighbours looking on may have called me crazy, as I stood firm and still like a statue upon the balcony – looking up with just my lips moving. 

I told Him how I felt in that very moment. Like I wasn’t good enough. Like I wasn’t doing enough, despite the exhaustion of running full steam all day, every day. Angry and sad that the life I had wanted had been snatched away from me. Feeling like a failure. I told him I was exhausted. From past pain and trauma, that sometimes still haunted me in ways I never even saw coming. I whispered how difficult it was to forgive the one who had placed his poison in a pure and innocent vessel. I told Him I missed them. My father, my grandmother. My family that are still present in this world; a family that is just not the same anymore – scattered, broken, in pieces. 

I closed my eyes again. Breathed in. Breathed out the pain like I did every day. And then I looked up to the sky and asked Him to continue His healing upon me. I thanked him. For the beautiful life He has given me. The beautiful country that I live in. The perfect family that I get to call my own. I asked him to protect them, to protect us. Thanking him for the path he brought me to, the guide that He gave to me when He knew that was what I most needed in this world. I thanked him for every little thing that I take for granted, asked Him to forgive me for not appreciating the blessings I wasn’t even aware of. And then I told Him that I trust Him. Because even if my life isn’t how I imagined my life to be, my life is beautiful. It really is. The life that I am living is the most intricate and perfectly crafted path that He chose for me. The life that He chose to bring me to Him, as close as I could possibly be. And how can I complain about that? How can I complain about that? 

Alhamdulillah, Allah. For everything.