Faded novembers (2nd post of the day)

A'salaamu alaikum ya'll. I came across a poem I had written in 2004 posted on the internet by someone else, a fan I suppose? Anyway when I read it, I was transported back to that time. Pre-Islam, my days of jahaliyya, ignorance. Really words can be very evocative and I just remember the underlying sense of despair that I felt. I wasn't depressed; I was outwardly happy, fairly well-adjusted, blah blah blah. But inside... there was a hole. A big black hole, an ENORMOUS black hole, of the depth and breadth that Steven Hawking can only fantasize about! :-)

Anyway, I just wanted to share this. A little background: my birthday is in November and I suppose I was feeling particularly melancholy that day. Not about aging but about this unsettled feeling I had inside me, that NO amount of dunya-loving could fill.

So here (especially for my born-Muslim or less dysfunctional friends) is a glimpse as to what it can feel like to have no purpose, no plan....

All These Faded Novembers

All these faded Novembers slip past

leaving me with the stale dusty taste of things forgotten

on my tongue

Maybe I haven’t the memories…

Or perhaps I haven’t the heart.

Sometimes, I think I can recapture the moment:

How freedom felt on the soles of unshod feet

crisp and sharp like new grass.

Or the decadence of the sultry summer sun on naked flesh

ripe with the promise of possibility,

without the threat of "forever"

But my courage has left me;

I drift aimlessly on the bitter winds.

I now drink from the placid waters

and feed upon the bracken and moss

which grows within my shadowed soul

 

 
I have to say that while re-reading it again, I can clearly see the metaphors I didn't recognize when I wrote it. I recalled a time of innocence, when a sublime pleasure was to walk barefoot for the first time in the spring. That would be the time when I had faith (though misguided) which was a great comfort and moral compass for me.
 
When I spoke of the "stale dusty taste of things forgotten" once again that was my lost iman, my faith, my strength which ONLY comes from the Creator. Subhanallah this whole poem is a lament about the passing of my innocence, the loss of my faith, and my weary acceptance that I would never again find that kind of solace and comfort.
 
"Without the threat of forever..." I couldn't even begin to contemplate what would happen after my death. I had no assurance of anything. That is truly a scary place to be.
 
ALHAMDULILLAH I was wrong. Allah swt guided me, He led me gently back to where I had been but elevated me to another plain, to the straight path. Subhanallah. I never want to feel that void again.
 
Ya Allah, I thank You with all my being for the second chance You have given me. I place my life, my destiny in Your hands, I acknowledge my helplessness, my futility, my utter inability to do anything of worth without Your assistance, Your rahma (mercy). Please forgive me for ALL my sins, past, present and future. Help me be the best wife and mother I can be so I am insha'Allah an instrument of Your will. Make me among the PIOUS muslimeen and among those destined for Jannah.  Ameen SUMMA ameen.