Duaas for the heart 

يا مقلب القلوب ثبت قلبي على دينك
oh turner of the hearts, turn my heart (keep my heart steadfast) on your path, Your religion. 
If you want something that saves your heart from any temporary occupancy that does nothing but hold you down in this dunya, use this Duaa. 
To me it also means to submit my heart to the One who made it and won’t ever break it. People will let you down, you’ll let others down, it’s life, but it’s all a little less of a burden on our ever battling hearts to let Him take over. 
Spread the Salam. Be kind. Be gracious. Don’t let anything phase you. It’s better to be the person who does good no matter what than to let obstacles change that of their character.

4/19/2016

“And every crevice of her heart filled with absolutism and gold-cracks that healed. Now she had more space for Him, now her heart could love for His sake instead of loving with no break. The heart does such reckless spending.” 

-Sarah 

You Turned Her: Relief Poetry

 

  

 Italian artist, Silvia Peliserro 

I found peace in place that was anything but. I found peace in you when everything around us was anything

But,

You turned her into poetry.

She was thunder dancing on pages, legs splattered ink, nothing of her was completed

She kept going.

She settled when you settled, she gravitated to you, then stopped like rain on rocks, beating down, clear, ruthless, indestructible.

Poetry on pages and notes that you couldn’t read, or fix

Poetry in her walk, not lady like, not elegant, not tall and beautiful.

So destructive to herself.

It is only in our late night hours where alone becomes her companion. Closed in a loft somewhere

See, around her all you saw was concrete, you never looked up at the building you built you hid behind iridescent screen because that was your safe place.

She didn’t know what safe meant because she was being written on by others, she was getting paper cuts, she never complained.

Everyone told her story.

They shrugged in ignorance, when she asked of her fate in the following pages and of her end to the story

She decided on no more pasty legs, girl, no more sudden silence, what was wrong with you? He told you, you can speak, you used to be more defensive than this, you used to be more cunning than this,

I wrote you to be less. I wanted you to be more, I can’t ask you for more.

When someone says they’re sorry, believe them when they can’t say it anymore.

I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.

I can’t be sorry enough.

 

 

 -Sarah