Many times I have asked my Love for guidance.
I plead until my voice is hoarse, but He does not answer.
I cry until my head hurts, but still He does not answer.
I prostrate myself towards Mecca and grind my question
into the dust before my face. There is no answer.
I tear at my tunic until I am wearing nothing but threads.
This is typical.
If there is one thing Najat has noticed it is this:
When you want information, Allah is not chatty.
Last night my entreaties went on until morning,
and I fell into an exhausted heap.
As I watched, a raven hopped right up to me,
an olive stuck in his beak,
and cocked his head so that he fixed me with one black eye.
Then he cawed, and flew away.
Najat wants to know: That’s an answer?