Your words are slipping from me,
It’s a struggle to read these days, these letters they’ve become unfamiliar to me~
Each day passes and I vow to remove you from the shelf and blow off the dust that covers you,
I envy the dust that touches you, it seems that it connects with you more than I ever do.
I held you between my fingers today, many years since I’ve touched you
I cannot read, I cannot read –
Oh Allāh I cannot read…
I grip you tightly oh Quranul’majeed
The most noble of speech;
the King of the kings had assembled you.
Oh arabic symbols you had once seeped through my fingertips and flowed into my blood _ how these veins use to throb out of awe for you.
Oh noble kalaam – penetrate through the tips of these hands of mine, flow right into my heart.
The painful consequence of neglect~ I rub by eyes again and again, it’s not due to blindness that I cannot read, I have not lost my intellect, my tongue has not lost the will to speak but it was I who had lost the way – and I became the one blinded from the truth ~ my heart concealed from recognising you.
I cannot read anymore as I grab you with all my strength that I do not have and sob quietly on the bedroom floor.
The blind is not he who has lost his sight but it is he who has deserted his friend and he has left the company of Al-Qur’an wondering why each day was void of light.