Today my heart is hurt and I miss my good days.
I am awake and I can’t sleep.
This is how my patience and story goes:
The day is the same, the night is the same.
Nights never end—I am covered in the darkness under the blanket—Occupied
By fear and sadness.
My breath is stuck under my throat.
I want to shout!
The old days when my husband loved me, the days he said a romantic word to me,
Stick under my throat. I ask Allah, What is my sin? Why can’t you stop?
My suffering? Why can’t I get spiritual medicine?
But then I say, don’t take away the pain!
Leave it at this spot.
It pulls me towards myself.
I look into the eyes of people to see if they don’t want to hear me cry
I absorb their anger as if I have committed sin. I want to run far and far so that they don’t catch me!
But I have left someone behind. My daughter, my cute fairy
My feet tremble . . . I look back . . . blurred faces appear, my daughter and the dreadful home. I
chose her, and the dreadful home chose me. I smile as if nothing happened.
She is alone . . . I come back but then I am back to the jam of problems.
I wish I couldn’t have returned.
What if she weren’t there? If I could have left?
Then I feel the warmth of my mother’s arms telling me, Baby, don’t cry—you are my powerful
daughter. Have patience and Allah will listen.
I look at her with reddish eyes.
I want to hold my mom tight, but she isn’t here.
I am alone, all on my own.
Still, if I know Happiness is near, I am sure I will smile and never fear again.
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