By Kashful Ilahi

As I set foot into your home,

a warmth rose through me,

deeper than the twelve-degree air around my skin.

The air that once carried your breath,

I am breathing in now.

The soil your feet blessed,

My feet are now witnessing.

And nothing about this feels real,

yet everything in me knows that it is.

I had not even seen you,

yet my tears were already gathering.

Is this how you felt for your Ummah,

Ya Rasulullah?

This pull of love, this ache of longing?

I cannot explain what stirred in me.

But when my eyes finally settled

upon your blessed resting place,

I trembled the way Mount Uhud once trembled for you.

My tongue forgot its words.

Before my lips even reached the takbir,

rivers poured from my eyes without end.

And in that moment, I realised,I have cried for countless things,

for many people, in many situations

but only these tears carried weight,

only these tears were worth anything.

The tears I shed for you,

Ya Habibullah,

held both guilt and pride intertwined.

The guilt of not being enough,

And the pride of still belonging to your Ummah.

Though my forehead touched the carpet again and again,

it was my heart that remained there

pressed into the softness of that sacred ground.

And my only prayer

is that it stays there,
Always.

Do You Believe in One God
& Ready to [Re]start your Journey of Faith & Gratitude as a Muslim?