When windstorms hide the sun
From the eyes of my heart
When Allah feels far and a stranger to me
That’s when my soul says to me,
“get up you worthless clot of blood
and go in search of gratitude.”
You see, I have much experience with wind-storm days
And I know that if I can find enough gratitude
To balance the weight of a grain of sand
I can redeem the day.
On days when I find it
I enshrine it in the Kabaa of my heart
I circle it seven times
and then I go home
restored to my Beloved.
This pilgrimage
Which has been my salvation many times
Can be completed in about the time it takes
To boil an egg.
On days when I nurture my separation
like a sullen child’s pout
I can give no excuse
for not taking the little Hajj.
That is when I must trust that Allah
Will come and search for me
In the sandstorm.
Invariably, when He finds me
He shakes his head and gives me a playful slap.
“You could not be bothered to find a grain of sand,”
He says, with a note of sadness in his throat,
“Even when it is blowing all around you.”
Listen to Najat,
If you cannot see gratitude swirling about you
It is because you are deliberately shutting your eyes,
Stuffing up your ears, and holding closed your nose and mouth.
You can die like that, you know.
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