My grandmother would say that
Any time something devastating would happen in her household
So much so that chests would heave
All senses knocked out
With silent cries and dry eyes
But a never ending pain,
She was always the one who could take it.
As though Angels would come a few moments before the tragedy
And just place a patch upon her heart
To bandage the part that was just about to be broken,
See. Allah takes care of us.
She would always say there was trust
In a home where Allah is thought about
There is ease
In a home where His help is sought out
But there is always pain,
And it’s not an easy race
As life runs ahead and decides to move on
While you stay at the start line lingering a moment longer
And life wasn’t easy for her,
Fourteen kids and only four survived,
Orphan, alone, only option was to strive
Yet she knew, Allah always provides.
So we learn from these stories
The beauty of security
For though we may never feel secure
We always have The Almighty
Who loves more than anything else
Who will forgive you when no one else will
Who will patch up the pain
Keep you sane
And give you every chance to attain
The Higher Goal.
