Drought

Poem

The hands have gotten dry!

No longer they water the plants,
Nor they feed the birds of fate.

No longer they wipe the tears,
Nor they lift up others.

No longer they 
whisper the tasbeeh.
Nor the hamd (praise)
of their Rabb 
they once used to do.


Drought has come 
to this soul
All that's left now
are cracks and holes.

Through mercies hand
The seeds once planted 
deep down
Lie awake, hidden
in the ground
Waiting to be see.

What is this heart supposed to do now?

Should this heart make an ablution? 
So It may become clean ,
Of stains and shadows,
Of faults and falls,
Of transgressions,
And oppression.

From ablution to surrender
The drops of purification
return to the soil.

All the sins go back to earth 
And the soil recieves them
holding, absorbing it all
As if they belonged there.

Reminding 
One day we too will 
go down that road 
not only the 
water that purifies 
this body but 
the entire being
will return to the soil.

---

Note: This poem feels like the opposite of my previous poem rainfall. This poem came unexpectedly. I didn’t plan to write it, but somehow drought found its own voice and spoke. Hope it resonates with you, in whatever season you find yourself.🌼✨

*Ablution: Ablution (in Arabic, wudu) is the washing of hands, face, arms, head, and feet before worship. It’s a beautiful reminder that purity matters before we connect with Allah.

*Hamd: praising Allah with love and gratitude in recognition of his mercy, power and blessings.