The man in the mirror.

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The ideal lifestyle she thinks she lives; she comes home from all the glamour and glitz but not once did she remember that her life is a few seconds, merely a loan.

Prayer had not crossed her mind at all and she cared not about any man whose eyes glanced and danced on every curve and lay still upon her exposed chest and behind.

She comes home one day, past twelve it was and goes straight to bed. She’s to tired to kick off the heels so she proceeds to get up again and remove her make-up instead. A cotton pad to her eye she begins to wipe and scrub every last detail she has displayed on herself tonight.

Her reflection in the mirror looks sad and disdained,
‘Oh reflection why is it that you’re feeling pain?’

It is not just I the reflection replies ~ the whole room bears witness to your treacherous cries. Do you not hear your soul weeping, long sobbing sighs? The walls and the doors shake with fear and fright, they observe you sin and they must witness against you to Allāh on the day that the lips will be sealed and only hands will speak. Oh owner of mine ~ do you not see how you leave every morning with the unintentional intention to sin and I weep for your return while I reside behind this glass world of mine. I look over you while you sleep and the music pumps through your speakers like the blood in your veins and I repeat again and again, ‘Wake up for salah, wake up for success!’

Oh possessor of mine, do you not see? The floor wails in sorrow when you walk towards wrong and your shadow whimpers when it must accompany you in the daylight.

Oh you who inhabits reality ~ take a look the mirror and observe your qualities, you are not insane if you were to ask your hands how it feels regarding your oppression today. Prepare for a day in which no sound will escape the lips you took for granted ~ lips used in malice words and bitter speech. A day in which your hands and feet will testify against your very self. Is it the ultimate betrayal if the same limbs which bore witness against you be the same limbs that will burn alongside you in the flames of the agonising abode?

….. The reflection replies, ‘look at me and don’t you dare turn your eyes, look to me but not at my face but the state of my heart ~ I am pained for I have away from my Lord for a very long time.’

And there and then past twelve it was; she finally saw herself, as if it was for the very first time.

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