I told myself I would write tonight So I’m not going to sleep till this page isn’t so white Scratch my head, stroke my chin, what should I say Sitting in this spot doesn’t exactly pay. Yet I feel the urge to break the silence In my head that is, I can never stop the violence As war and peace collide in the back of my mind Ok, I admit, that isn’t my line. Point is, I have something on my chest Until I get it off I won’t be able to rest but I don’t know what it is and I can’t find any clues Like why do I say less every time I speak to you The only way is...

This is for you. Always leaves me with a smile, A while, since it has been there So much better than my deadly glare. Ironic really, the story tells Forced, abused – pain itself. Yet always laughing, joking with me As if, beyond eyes, truth can see. Fatigued with misery, dreams to be free Can’t see the leaves, nor the roots of this tree. Understanding is difficult, advice impossible Every other step, is more like an obstacle. Keep struggling I say, and remember to pray God will guide you from going astray. Can’t leave the house, ‘dads about’, No doubt. Like to dress...

Peace be with you Sabr, the Islamic term translated commonly as ‘Patience’ is used numerous times in the Qur’an and Hadith. As with other words used in these texts, the meaning has far more depth than the simple closest translation. This week I learnt about a saying of the second Khalif, Umar Ibn Al-Khattab (RA) on sabr. He described it as two*: - The lesser sabr. This is where one is faced with difficulty, and they are patient. For example, the loss of something dear to you requires patience for you to get through that difficulty. - The greater sabr. This is where you are being...