- Here is a poem for anyone going through illness, hardship, or silent pain.
Whispers of the Angel
I have heard death's whispers many times. It calls me like an old friend— a friend I’d rather stay away from, but a friend nonetheless.
He does not knock, nor does he wait for permission. He walks like shadow beside me, scary—but dutiful. An angel, bound not by malice, but by obedience to my Lord.
He does not speak. He simply stands when my soul trembles in sujood, when the wind stills at night, when my heart aches for things it cannot name.
He has seen the faces of kings and children, the lovers of dunya, and the lovers of Allah.
To the heedless, he comes like lightning— To the prepared, like a quiet pull toward home.
Sometimes I wonder if he’s near, when I can’t sleep. When my mother’s voice trembles in du’aa. When I feel too heavy for this earth, and too sinful for the sky.
But I know… He only moves when my Lord commands. He has no power of his own. He is not cruel. Just certain.
So I wait, not with eagerness, but with submission. Not with longing, but with hope.
That when he comes, he will not find me empty. He will not find me far.
Let him find me with Qur’an on my lips, and Allah in my heart. Let him take me, if I am ready.
And if I am not… then let me live only to become so.
-Ruhaya 🤍