When faith slips
Sometimes my faith slips away,
Like water seeping into dry earth,
Or the fajr prayer, missed in dawn’s hurried rush.
It shifts, unpredictable,
In moments when my loosely tied hijab
Struggles to contain rebellious strands of hair.
In the silent hours of forgotten tahajjud,
Or beneath the buzz of my tattooist's steady needle.
I wish my faith —
Were as constant as the sun’s arc,
Like an abaya worn with conviction and grace.
But doesn’t change
Make life more interesting?
As faith deepens,
When tested and tried.
When it breaks and heals, time and again,
Like ice in a perpetual dance of melting and freezing,
Strengthening with each renewal.
When it returns in full force,
It is like a dying plant reviving under the sun’s embrace.
Each verse, each Hadith, a petal of faith,
Unfolding in the sun's nurturing warmth.
My only wish —
That no matter where my journey takes me,
My faith, like a compass,
Always finds its way back to me.