Every year, one month out of 12. A blessed month where people reaffirm their beliefs and try to make themselves better for the year to come. Battling demons and desires as they truly want to change for the better. You see people that rarely show their faces, you eat food with groups, and getting to know others. A month where old habits die and new ones are trying to be maintained. This is where evil tends to dies, and good is supposed to be born.

Growing up, I always strived to be the best Muslim, especially in the month of Ramadan. Since i started going to college and working, my time is gone and i wish i could have done so much more in the past. I always wanted to memorize the Quran, I wanted to read more as the days went by. But now, I can barely fit a couple of pages in a day. It has become a month of struggle. Struggling to get back on the right track and struggling to fight against the bad habits that you got used to in the past months. I was always told that some people speak with their tongue, and speak with their heart. I’ve read posts and articles about people finally feeling some sort of peace in their prayers and finally, internally accepting Islam after years of just practicing. I ache and I pray that one day, before I’m gone from this world, that I can feel that peace that others feel in their soul. The feeling of finally accepting and being rewarded for trying their best. Islam is beautiful, and I pray that one day, I can lock all my devils away, and fall in love with something so great.



So many things bother me on a daily basis. One thought though, is of an old friend. I don’t understand why the thought of him sticks in my mind. Its like he’s glued there and won’t leave my mind. The truth is, him cutting me off was a blessing. Alhamdulillah, his presence around me caused me to act immature and do rash things. But, he was a friend for a long time, and despite our differences, he became a brother. He cut me off out of no where, for a reason that barely made sense. He wanted to move on past the old town he had grown up in. The only reason he’s filling my mind is because i recently saw him. He wouldn’t be intoxicating my mind like this if he hadn’t tapped me on that subway. I was past him. He was behind me and he ran up and let me know that he was there. My heart sank. It’s dumb, i know, but it did. I always prayed that we could find a way to work it out, no matter what. Brotherhood requires effort to keep, but that effort became too much. Somewhere along the line of our childhood and through our teens, our bond was severed. I like to think that God does things for a reason, and He does. But the test comes to understand and accept those reasonings. Hopefully i can one day understand why people are taken away, and how to grow from these experiences.

P.S. Poetry is now on Instagram.com/f.s.yousaf . I will post poetry here and there on wordpress, but follow me on instagram for brand new poems every day.