Posted in Islam, Life, Religion, Uncategorized

Rain

The clouds recoiled from the eager eyes of Earth

Teasing them with specks of gold then retreating again

A shy child holding out her hand

hesitating

then retreating to stand behind her mother

peeking from time to time behind her mother’s leg stealing glances at strangers

The land thirsted for a glimmer of hope.

A droplet

Waiting endlessly until

the perfect time

The people of the village peered at the sky through patient eyes

blocking the sun with hardened hands

signalling the end of a season

An eruption was simmering beneath the surface

Anticipation heightened as the sky began to shift

The sun, dominant and forbearing

was shrinking shrinking

The clouds thunderous and wide

-not in anger but more like a King’s welcome

the elderly, with their eyes closed, began to whisper prayers

the worried couple prematurely embraced in gratefulness

the children’s laughter interrupted by a slow, steady rumble.

Then an escaped, nervous giggle.

Silence sounded in warning

In the blink of an eye

gathering speed

the first drop

of new life

-a.K.a-

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Author:

Hi, my name's Aisha and I am 24 years of age. I'm passionate about writing poetry. Sometimes, I don't know how to convey my thoughts in normal conversation but I can spin off a poem about what I am feeling in 5 minutes. Or less. Writing is my thing. Like it is a lot of people's 'thing' and sometimes the only 'thing' that is a sufficient outlet to stop us all from going crazy. There's a lot of pain and anxiety in my poems, but often relief, which I find hard to convey but manage to slip it in at the end with a reference from the Quran or a hadith. If you feel you recognise this same emotional attachment to words, then feel free to read my blog and do not hesitate to contact me, comment and subscribe! Peace, Aisha -a.K.a-

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