Despite What Remains To Be Seen

So I started listening to the voice of a sister who goes by the name of Sofia Baig, and felt inspired myself.

It's August 2009

The beginning of Ramadan,

And I must admit

That im feeling sublime.

For Despite what remains to be seen

I give my thanks to Al-Kareem.

The One

to whom all things belong,

And am grateful that I understand

Where I stand,

And how I bow down

With my head to the ground

Before none

Other than He who created me.

It's August 2009

The beginning of Ramadan,

And I must admit

That im feeling sublime.

For Despite what remains to be seen

I give my thanks to Al-Kareem.

For it was through genorosity

That I was guided,

Something that compelled me,

Even when I was blinded,

Blinded by the light

The sun shining bright

High above the hill

Yet, now I walk down a path, that's straight and narrow

Feel the sun seep deep into my marrows,

Through the layers of my protection

Still warmin my body

With a gentle affection

But Alhamdulilah

My soul is warmed not by the sun

But rather of by and to

That timeless entity

Who created me.

One

Not two

Or three,

Or any other random number

Used to compund interest me.

It's August 2009

The beginning of Ramadan,

And I must admit

That im feeling sublime.

For Despite what remains to be seen

I give my thanks to Al-Kareem.

In Ramadan 2008

Inside I felt great,

There was a certain amount of purity

That flowed through me

Cleansing

And clearing,

Because

Al-Kareem was steering me

Steering me to a greater purpose

One I would not come to realise

Until some time later

And time is something,

That when pulled, comes up short

And short are the days

We have left

To live for today

Is an interesting concept

As my living for today,

Is different from yours

My living for today

Is established in the firm belief

That any day

Any day

Tomorrow, next tomorrow,

Could be my last.

Perhaps you would ask

Why would I spend my last day morose

And id reply that reflection

Upon reflection does not make me sad

Rather it guides me,

Along the straight path

Guarding me from things that I know are bad

And Alhamdulilah

It is Al-Kareem who's guided me.

It's August 2009

The beginning of Ramadan,

And I must admit

That im feeling sublime.

For Despite what remains to be seen

I give my thanks to Al-Kareem.

A warm slow day

 My hands are sticky, sightly damp and warm. A slither of sun light slips through my curtains to lie on my arm, warming a section of my skin, and changing its hue. Right now, i know i should be doing something else but my desire to lie down and close my eyes is strong. Maybe i'll just take a moment's rest. I'll be back up in a little while, to work. Either way i figure today is going to be another one of those days. You know hte ones that seem like they are ticking by slowly. Till you look up and realise that all the daylight ours are gone. 

Clearing One of the Paths To Islam

Good afternoon brothers & sisters (in humanity and/ or faith ) *grins* How are you all doing...  

I would like to recruit your help.  Im not always the most concise of people so please please bear with me.

  Allah is the inspirer- and guess what ... I have an idea.  

I was listening to a lecture - in fact i pressed pause and quickly started typing up some of my idea, just so i wouldn't lose it in he middle of listening to said lecture- and found myself with this idea in my head.  

Background: 

- I currently attend a Catholic girls school. 

-in my five years their it seems to me that i've made no move towards sharing Islam. Apart from last year when i started wearing hijab, and ended up having to give pseudo islamic lectures to my different classes, when asked by my teachers about the change

- oh and recently in English lit. those spontaneous moments when im looked to explore the non-Christian message of the poem Rime of The Ancient Mariner (sorry a bit of a tangent) I really don't feel I've done much sharing. 

- I want to start a Muslim Student Association 

-I have a lot of money on my school computer account for printing

- and ive been informed that i won't be able to take the money off it when i leave *shrugs*

 Idea: 

-A Questionnaire (lol bet you thought it was going to be something extravagant) 

-So right now I've got a title- Do you know Islam?-- i think that lacks creativity.  

-I've got some questions in mind...  -May possibly use a prize as an incentive in the younger classes if i am allowed to go into classes actually.  

How You Can Help 

-... firstly- If any of you could come up with a really creative and cool name, then alhamdulilah that would be great 

-ANY Questions you can think of would be greatly appreciated Obviously- five pillars of Islam is like a standard, but i think things along the line of 'do you know why muslim girls wear a hijab?' and.... uh similar questions will be a good line to follow. 

-Also I would love to get some genuine questions from non muslims to put on the questionnaire- that way it won't be like im imposing some sort of bias slant on it... 

Inshallah this will be something that goes off successfully, am honestly quite excited about it. Any help you can give or even ideas you have on how to make it better would be greatly appreciated. Subhanallah there are so many people on this earth, and so many different lengths people will go to to find understanding- hopefully by doing this i can open/ make clear an easy path to islam that Allah subhana wa ta'ala in his Mercy has made for us. 

Okay Take  care.  

Bye Your Sister in humanity and/or faith Azeezat   

 You can reply here if you like, or you could take a look at my site and reply there

When the glass is half full…

And it isn't half empty,

Although technically it is.

You stretch out your hand,

Say bismilah

Then take a sip.

 

When the glass is half full,

And it isn't half empty

Though I guess you could say it is,

You curl your fingers round it

Say alhamdulilah

And are glad for what you've been given

 

When the glass is half empty

And it isn't half full

Although technically it is,

You ask for sabr,

And remain steadfast

Because relatively you have plenty. 

 This is one of the most horrific things i have ever heard of, and the saddest thing is that this isn't some work of fiction, it is actually a practice that is considered legal and is occurring today. All the people that are perpetrator's of these acts will stand up to account for them on the day of judgement. i wonder what they will say when asked about what they have done, when they are asked about the rights they have taken away, and the untold damage they've done in exchange for money.

 Below follows an account of a survivor. Please visit the website linked. 

Attachment Therapy Survivor Renee: "I think I had learned how to manipulate more than anything, but  Day 333. Survivors found: 6 This account of attachment therapy comes from a girl named "Renee." It was told to me via e-mail; only minor edits have been made for the purpose of publishing in weblog format. As of this day, Renee is the last survivor I've found. ...I think Elizabeth Randolph was the lady that came to torture me, but I'm still doing my research. It might come down to asking my "parents." I don't like thinking of them as my parents anymore...  I have to choose the right time to bring this out into the open with them. Because once I do, I really don't think we will speak ever again, and that is OK with me. It just has to be at the right time. I can't stomach them at all. It's kinda complicated.  I have been in touch with [ACT Executive Director] Linda Rosa, what a great lady. It's nice to know that there is somebody out there that cares about this and is standing behind us survivors. She has given me some good ideas, sent me a document that I can take to a lawyer and given me many names and pics of attachment "therapists" to help me pick out my tormentors. She seems like a very smart woman. I will tell you my story, I wish I could remember everything but I will tell you as much as I can right now. It was in the summer time, the summer before I entered the seventh grade. I was about 12 years old.  My adoptive parents came to me and said that we were going to go through a different type of therapy and that it would be intense. This in no way prepared me for the horror that I would endure during the two weeks of "blanket therapy."  There were three of them. Two men and one lady. The lady was fat and sloppy, short hair, and I remember glasses. She had an East Coast accent, I will never forget her voice, I can still hear her clearly. A tall, medium-built white male, with fair skin and lighter hair, and a shorter but stockier male with dark hair and dark eyes, his eyes I can see in my mind, he was the more talkative of them, he seemed to be more of the leader in the group, he was definitely running the show. The other two were more involved physically than this one, they mostly did what he told them.

DAY ONE

My memory of the first time...the dark haired man asked me to get into the blanket after explaining that it was just a good way to feel safe when expressing angry feelings. I was kinda leery, I didn't want to do it, but I still had no idea of the events that were about to take place.  I get into the blanket, they wrap me up. How did they do that? I was in there so tightly, I couldn't move at all, only my head.  Once restrained they told me to start getting angry... Was this a joke? What did they mean "get angry?"  "I don't know what you want me to do" I said to them. "Get mad, it's OK, you can't hurt yourself or anyone else, just start screaming! Get angry!" he would say to me. I think I laughed. "I can't get mad about nothing, I don't know what to do, or what to be angry about." This is when they proceeded to give me something to scream about and to be angry about. It started with the top of the blanket over my face. What the hell are they doing, I thought. I'm sure they will pull it back in a minute. No, the blanket stayed over my face, and I couldn't breathe. I was so hot, I was sweating. I was begging them to take the blanket off my face. Please!  They wouldn't. They were mocking me... I couldn't believe what was happening, and that my parents weren't doing anything about it. Why were they trying to hurt me. They said that they were helping me get my anger out...what? I remember the blanket being taken off my face and then back on, I don't remember exactly when it was taken off, but there were times when I could see what they were doing. The fair skinned man was down at my feet. He was rubbing my feet. It made me uncomfortable... He then proceeded to take his knuckles and rub really hard into the balls of my feet and they would cramp, oh it was painful, he did this for what seemed like hours, I had charlie horse cramps in my feet, he wouldn't stop no matter how I begged, even when I got angry and screamed and fought with all that I could. I sounded possessed. I remember the rage inside of me. The dark haired man and the fat lady were pushing on my stomach, they were pushing hard. Why? I'm so sorry, I will do anything, I will love you I promise, I do love you, please don't! Dad make them stop!  He just watched. They were hurting my stomach. "I'm going to throw up!" I said. "Throw up then" they said...and kept going. The blanket went back on my face.

DAY TWO

I came out into the living room, it was first thing in the morning, I hadn't even eaten yet, I don't know if I had eaten the whole day or night before. I came out and sat on the couch. They were all there waiting for me to come out, the blanket was spread out onto the floor all ready for me, the cameras were on. I look at the TV and see myself on TV. This can't be real, another day of this? They told me to get into the blanket I said no I won't, they said we can do this the easy way or the hard way, I really don't remember how I got in there that morning but I did. The fair skinned one lay right on the top of me, his face just a couple inches from mine. I'm terrified of what they will do.  I'm quiet, so the man laying on me says, "picture this in your mind, I'm a football player and I'm raping you, do you like it? Fight me off." I felt something down there...this couldn't be real, my parents were watching, they didn't say a word. I remember the lady screaming right up in my ear, just screaming and I couldn't move, I couldn't stop her, she was telling me things about my birth mother, things that I knew weren't true, she was yelling them at me. I hated her. They'd make me stare into the eyes of these people who were my "parents" and then into theirs for what seemed like hours. I don't know, the rest of this is all fuzzy, these are bits and pieces... I fought and struggled until I couldn't anymore, I remember being so exhausted, I wanted to lay there and die. For the grand finale, someone or more than one was holding this pillow over my face. This wasn't like the blanket smothering, this was someone forcefully holding a pillow over my face... Our brown couch pillow, not the cushion kind, the decorative, it was big and hard. My whole body was convulsing. They were trying to kill me... I knew I was going to die... I was fighting, fighting...there was no air, no air at all... I saw stars, I urinated and saw black, I was out. I woke up in my adoptive parents arms, they made me lay there for quite some time staring into their eyes. My dad was kissing me all over and wouldn't break eye contact, it was crazy after what had just happened. They were there for a while after...oh yes my father took us all out on the boat fishing... They were watching me. I knew I had to fake it, fake it all I could, I had to pretend I was what they wanted so I wouldn't have to get back into the blanket. More smothering, suffocation, yes and she did lick my face, no more of that...hurting my feet and stomach...did he say rape? They were so heavy... ... In my memory these memories combine into about two-three days... I have no recollection of anything else that went on over the course of two weeks, maybe there is a reason I don't remember the rest, but I'm trying to surface my memories, I want to know everything no matter how painful and frightening it is. I must overcome this, it has controlled me for so long.  A couple years later, I guess my "parents" thought I was not submissive enough so they had some other creep that wasn't a part of my "therapists" team. He was somebody new, but from the same organization. We all sat in the living room while he proceeded to tell me that if I didn't shape up that he would personally take me with him to their headquarters in Colorado, to a room with no windows and they would perform blanket therapy on me until I learned from it...which would obviously be a long time. I had to fake it. Oh I promise I will try so hard and be so good, you don't have to take me. He didn't take me, I was safe. I think I had learned how to manipulate more than anything, but I had to in order to survive. I would be damned if this was going to happen to me again, I was 15 at this point, a little older, a little more aware. I wasn't going back to that nightmare. I know this is long and dragged out but I was just thinking and typing from the top of my head, so some of it might be jumbled, and might not make sense. Let me know. Yes, you have my permission to post it on your site, and you can edit it or I can if you want me to... I'm not the best writer though.  Well hope to hear back from you... Take care... Your fellow survivor. Interested in stopping this kind of child torture?  Here's what you can do.  Please help us.

new One Shot

"Her heart beat faster, pounding in her chest as her feet slapped against the tiles. 'This can't be happening', Denial heavily laced her thoughts. 'I can't believe this', accepting ruination wasn't easy. 'I knew I'd die eventually but I didn't think it would be now. Not this soon. What can I say? What can I do?', there must have been some way to prevent this, or maybe she could have stopped it from happening in the first place.  ''But there really isn't anyway that I can stop this', she realised, if it was meant to happen… then it would happen.   She turned briefly and looked over her shoulder, running and out of breath she still had to look. 

 

The picture that greeted her was to horrible to convey. How would she have been able to demonstrate the amount of horror that she felt as she watched flames engulf her home. The smooth cool cream coloured stone wall that she had pressed her cheek up against so many times, licked black by flames."

am working on this piece... for line by line, got to  revise though.. I've got one exam tomorrow... then one on monday.. and then another on the 27th yup lots of stuff. 

take care though people, take care.

Today I Shed Tears

Today I shed tears

As I read about Gaza

In my heart there was fear

Though below I heard laughter

 

I sat back on my carpet

And read about people

Who had nothing left

But their prayers for freedom

 

I wrapped my duvet tight

Against the chill that ailed me

This was the horrific plight

From which they should be free

 

The lines before me

Were so hard to contemplate

How could I sip my tea

And consider this their fate

 

The problem is not theirs

What does that mean

For these are my people and I care

Because I know the world is a team

 

So this problem is mine

And this problem is Your's

 it belongs to us

We're running out of time

Doing something is a must.