It’s OK
if you don’t feel the spirit of Ramadaan this time around.
If your nights are filled not with the standing in prayer,
but instead standing washing dishes…
getting what little spirituality you can
from a YouTube lecture you otherwise wouldn’t take in
amidst the activities of the rest of life.
It’s OK
if, by the end of it all,
you’re physically spent – back aching –
unable to make even 2 units of Taraweeh prayer,
while others speak so highly of keeping up the habit at home,
even though we can’t be in the masjid this year.
It’s OK
if you fit in what little Quran time you can,
trying to enjoy moments of peace
as these Divine Words wash over your tired soul,
hoping to get as much blessing as you can –
even when you don’t read the translation,
or delve into the explanations propounded by scholars old and new.
It’s OK
if you can’t even muster a dua in the middle of the night,
nor wake up for Tahajjud at all –
restless children removing any chance of a solid sleep
for even a minimum amount of hours to function optimally the next day.
It’s OK
if you don’t have tons of extra time –
like so many others –
to sit in quiet reflection and contemplation,
enjoying the greatest month of the year at home in peace –
because your work has not scaled down like theirs has.
It’s OK
to dread the waking up of kids –
demands soon to increase,
as breakfast must be made,
dressing seen to,
and schooling must begin.
It’s OK
to feel overwhelmed
as the demands of multiple roles pile onto your already-fragile spirit –
from working to schooling,
cleaning and dealing with emotionally-taxing situations…
wanting to run away when yet another disaster occurs,
stretching the patience of even the strongest of people.
It’s OK
to feel like you’re losing this blessed month:
days and nights slipping away
while others remark on how quickly it’s going –
yet it all feels the same to you;
spirituality swallowed
by never-ending tasks
amidst the added background
of a global pandemic
that’s made you a prisoner in your own home.
It’s OK
to wish this would all come to an end,
normality to return,
so that you can at least enjoy the bounties of nature again,
escaping the limited surrounds which close in on your mind
as you wonder how many months or years it will be
until you can venture out again in safety.
It’s OK
to feel tired of it all,
even though others have it far worse –
no food nor income,
homes far more constrained,
and companions much less likeable.
For the degree of your suffering –
relative to others’ –
does not diminish your own pain.
It does not make your struggles invalid, simply because others have it worse.
And your silent complaints
do not make you ungrateful,
nor unworthy of the bounties with which you’ve been blessed.
And though the strain of these weeks weigh heavily,
know that it’s not for nothing.
For –
amidst the toil and turmoil –
you are being built up.
God gives you no burden greater than you can bear,
and though your mind does not yet accept the strength you have inside,
it’s always been there – simply waiting
for the match to spark within you
the flame that will burn through your troubles –
carrying you to greater heights and a station of increased nobility,
unwitnessed by human eyes.
Go easy on yourself,
‘O struggling soul,
and do whatever you can –
all the while seeking the Help
of the One Who witnesses your efforts.
Seek help in patience and prayer,
and compare yourself to none.
For this is your journey.
Your story.
Your life.
And you’ll get through it all, God-willing.
Little by little.
Step by step.
Take it a day…
or even an hour…
at a time.
And hobble along
the path to Paradise.
For when you get there,
you’ll look back on these moments,
and cry tears of joy,
and you’ll know –
once and for all – that
it’s OK.
slip-sliding away..... 
Masha’Allah, this is a beautiful poem with so many raw emotions many Muslims never talk about for fear of sounding like we’re not doing enough. I am guilty of this thinking, but one of the insights I have had this month (although, it’s really a reminder, because I know it intellectually, and yet often forget in practice) is that Allah (swt) created us all differently – we each have different strengths and weaknesses. We usually focus on the former for other people and the latter in ourselves. In a way, that’s good… but if it keeps us from forgetting the blessings we have, it can take us away from what this month is all about.
It’s kind of a composite of recent experiences – from others too, not just myself. You’re right about the fear of disapproval – *especially* in this month, despite lockdown – when we have virtual communities roaring with spiritual activities and motivational messages galore.
And what we see out there mirrors the normal social media trap: people put out the best parts of themselves and their experiences, and we sit there feeling inferior because we’re just not ‘performing’, which is particularly shameful because it’s Ramadaan.
But really, it’s all about reframing perspective: make an intention that your mundane, inescapable stressful tasks will be a form of worship; and just do your best in your own personal capacity…in your own intensely private relationship with your Creator – which is something so intimate…so out of sight from others. And in the end, the key is merely sincerity. Whether you do 100 acts of worship or just one…it’s your sincerity that matters most.