slip-sliding away…..

Orange lights from the masjid…
the passionate voice of the hafidth
reciting the words of the Most High…
the peace…the peace…the peace
of Ramadaan,
descending;
stars twinkling above,
moon radiant and white,
clouds passing by –
illuminated by the shining lamp which follows wherever we go.

A time like no other.
A time to cherish.
An annual gift –
never guaranteed to arrive for us all,
yet greatly appreciated when it does.

They call it an annual visitor,
Yet that personification doesn’t capture
the beauty and essence
of the treasures this month holds.

For, Ramadaan
is no guest to be entertained,
nor housed,
nor fed…
instead, it feeds our souls
that which we too often miss
in the haze of the rest of the year.

We soak it in,
night after night…
standing in dedication for hours of prayer,
after many more hours of daytime deprivation…
suppressing the body,
to elevate the soul…
spirits flying high as we approach the final ten;
capped by a night of immense power,
such that our world fills
with angels unseen,
bringing tranquility felt
by the hearts of those who seek it.

And we pray our personal prayers;
we supplicate,
we ask,
we beg….
pouring our hearts out
to the only One Who can give us all we want…
all we need.

We exhaust ourselves in worship,
not out of robotic duty,
but in honoured servitude –
slavery to He Who made us,
sustains us,
and is with us
every moment…
every heartbeat…
every split second
of our lives.

This bond is built,
fed,
nurtured,
in these precious days and nights,
and when the end approaches,
and that moon is sighted,
a sweet sadness overcomes us…
for, though we’ll celebrate the next day,
we bid farewell
to an intimate friend;
a time that anchors our hearts once more,
in that which matters most –
a consciousness
worth more than anything we could gain from this material world…

Home.
Like Madinah.
Like Makkah.
Like Arafah.
Perhaps…
like Jannah.

Farewell,
‘O blessed nights…

May we meet again,
and again,
and again.

♡