It is hard to write about death in a meaningful way
It is so intricately connected to us , interwoven
Into the state of our being that to find it we would
Have to unpick ourselves stitch by stitch watching as
The short threads of our lives fall to the ground
When our memories fade and are made vivid all the same
The moment when you can answer the final question
But there is no more time left , it is definite with grains
Of sand falling the hour glass of our life turned
It is clear to see the days pushing past each other
Through the narrow gap of now
Death comes to us all , asleep or awake
These hands tremble as I reassemble threads
Knotted, to clothe myself for
A day when we will all stand exposed
Ibn Abbas (radi Allahu anhu) narrated that the Prophet (sal Allahu alaihi wa sallam) said:
“When Allah drowned Firaun, he said (while drowning), ‘I believe that there is no God but He in whom the Children of Israil believe.’Jibreel said to me, ‘O Muhammad! If you could have seen me when I took the mud from the sea and shoved it into his mouth, fearing that the mercy of Allah might save him.’”
Tirmidhi
No comments:
Post a Comment