what winding road will find us,

what rusty iron gate?

The winds blow fast above us,

an urgency we can’t ignore.

I feel I am always fearing some

impossible obstacle,

but in truth I miss my doors and walls,

and the people i’ve always known.

Is it illness within me,

to want only what my memories are made of?

I feel I stand in a receding tide,

the water takes all, even my footprints beneath me.

Rushing out towards an infinite loss,

the particles of me, dispersing over thousands 

of ever-changing miles, never reuniting.

Am I so inherently weak

Am I so frightened of a world that 

is destined to either make me

or break me?

How much anguish have I already put upon myself

that i have lost the balance of my heart?

Can a home be a mother and father

sisters and brothers

walls and doors?

Can a home be a husband

love and children

ceilings and floors?

Nay, the heart is my only home.

The light within can be the only stability!

everything else is only support

and everything is transient

Except the humility of a heart

chained to Allah.

The future is frightening and unsure,

but so is the tip of an angel’s wing,

and the wells of mercy are found in 

just two cupped hands.


Nesha Usmani


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