Don’t feel bad.
You were not made for days like this.
You were made for days that are wild with passion
And for nights hot with wine and sweat and kisses
And the whispering of secrets.
But this day is a day of longing
Of crying out into empty air, “where are you?”
When your Love is nowhere to be seen,
And the waiting seems worse than death.
“Why,” you cry, “has my Love abandoned me?
Did I not dote enough?
Were there not enough tender words?
Or too many spoken in anger?”
Najat says, Shush. Don’t feel bad. Days end.
Your love has never stopped caressing you,
And covers your neck with kisses even as you hear these words.
That you do not feel Him with you all the time is no one’s fault.
You must turn your face away from Him
Or His brilliance will make you blind.