The sounds escaping my mouth...
they're not mine.

The tears sprung from my eyes...
they're not mine.

It couldn't have been me.
It wasn't my conscious decision.

I sobbed
like I've never sobbed before,
like I hope to never sob again, insha'Allah.

It scared him a bit, I think.
I know it scared her a lot.
I said it all without any show of my real emotion.
I said what was my duty without emotion.
But when he joked about his death,
I sobbed.
He was laughing,
laughing when all he wanted was to cry
(I take after him in that respect),
and I covered my eyes
and let it all come down.
Then I couldn't stop.
He kissed my forehead.
I grabbed on to his waist,
his leg,
and begged him not to die on me.
Not that it's in his hands,
but he can't give up on me.
May Allah keep him here with me
as long as I need him.

And so we appear strong,
trouble only comes to test.

We appear without emotion,
trouble only comes before blessings.

Yet we cried together.
That was the best thing
out of all of this.

Now my chest is free...
for the most part...
free of the burden of solitairy knowledge...



***

Now we need some good news.
Can we just get some good news?
Please.

"Verily with hardship comes ease..."

Keepin' the prize in sight. Right?