As I gazed upon Your sacred House, I could not help it, I broke down. I felt Your presence so near to me, like I had never felt before. My eyes drank from a glass filled to the brim, From the spring of liquid clarity, pure and undefiled. I savored every last drop. I did not know what was happening to me. Suddenly it all made sense, the fragments converged. They formed one beautiful silhouette, but yet… The light was still obstructed by doubt. My surety was still like...
As we leave the Arafat sunset, And ride to Muzdalifa. The whiteness of our ihrams Gleams in the darkness. “Hajj Mubarak,” a sister whispers, As she embraces me tightly. Her tear stained cheek touches mine, In silent salaam. “What are we doing here?” my ten year old sister asks, As we lie on the sandy stones, In the open of Muzdalifa. “We are tracing the footsteps of our prophets,” my father replies, As he raises his hands to the heavens. Muhammad’s blessed footsteps from Mina to Arafat to Muzdalifa....
Many of us feel left out. We feel deprived. We feel depressed. We feel very sad at heart. This is because many of us did not get the opportunity to go and visit the Sacred House of Allah this year. Some of us may have already gone for Hajj, but yet we miss the Ka’bah already. Many of us have never gone for Hajj, and we feel extremely disheartened. But don’t feel sad, and don’t feel deprived.
