Today I am so angry at Allah
I wish I could hit Him!
I want to punch Him in the face and pull out His hair
and make him feel even the smallest portion
of the pain that I feel today.
So instead I rage at the sky
and throw dust at the sun
and roll in the brambles until I bleed.
And when I have shouted myself hoarse
and cried myself dry
and have worked myself into such a miserable state I am shaking
Allah comes up behind me,
places his mouth upon my ear, going “shush, my love.”
I lash out but only succeed in boxing my own ear.
So then he lays beside me, his arm around my chest until it is still
whispering, “Calm yourself, my love.
Why don’t you tell me how you really feel.”
And this is why I hate him.
He never takes any of my pain seriously.
Not really.
He shows up and acts as if, no matter how much I am suffering,
everything is going to be all right in the end.
And this only serves to make me angrier.
Najat is no idiot.
He knows that Allah is wise.
He only wishes Allah were not so damned smug.
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