allow

I have two parts. No, let me put it this way: I have me and I have a shield. A shell. The me inside is too delicate. Allah gave me a shield.


I cry too often. Everything makes me cry. Writing this is making cry. Saying cry makes me cry. But only in the comfort of my comfort.

Then I go out, and I won’t shed a tear. It’s nowhere to be found. I don’t allow.

Praying in a group makes me cry, and I fight against it. I don’t allow.

And sometimes you also have your cup filled inside, but you don’t allow. You want to open for Allah, but you don’t allow. You want to comply, but you don’t allow.


You see the truth but you don’t allow. The Quran makes you cry, but you don’t allow.

You want the tears to come at your time. Allah blesses you at His time, but you don’t allow.

He waits and waits until you allow. Until you surrender and you will allow. Until you step above and you will allow. Until nothing else matters and you will allow.

Until you have nothing else and you will allow. Until you are no longer you and you will allow. Until your walls finally break. And your heart can finally expand. And the sheet over your eyes slide off. Until your mind wants nothing more.

Until see your Lord. Until you feel His warmth. Until you understand His love. Then you finally allow.

Allow.


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