pre-challenge chu (also: why fajr)

132 25 17
                                    

   So I can't journal.

   I don't know why, but it tires me to write with pen and paper. And also to complain on paper. But I am a writer at the end of the day, which means the only way I can best process my thoughts is by making them tangible. Which, for a writer who writes once every blue-blood-moon, means a lot of pent-up angst and nowhere to cry.

   (or rather, everywhere to cry).

   And that's what I've been doing, I guess. I cry all the time. It's humiliating. Debilitating. I hate it. I hate the headaches the follow. I hate the heartaches that stay. I hate how I am a child in an adult's body that feels like my life is constantly slipping out of my hands.

   Listen . . . I know everyone feels this way but I don't feel what everybody is feeling I am only one hooman and all I feel is overwhelmed. It sucks. And I can't pinpoint when everything went downhill but I do recall a time when I was more or less on top of things. And I want to be that person again. It isn't fair, to live with such heaviness. It isn't fair to curse people and curse myself and hate myself and hate the world. I love the world, but sometimes I feel like I don't belong in it. i don't know what I'm doing, where I'm going, why I did the stupid thing. I feel like all I have been doing is stupid things lately, and although I know it isn't true, a large part of me actually believes it.

   So . . . with that cheerful intro, here's a look at our poem for the day:


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   this is called fajr, and it's written by me. (NOTE: all the poems i post won't be mine - some will belong to some of my favourite poets/people)

   So, this poem is part of a five-part collection (five prayers wink wink) and also the first poem of a book I am working on. It is divided into a before and an after. I won't go into too much detail because I feel a lot of poetry can be felt differently by the people that read them, but the essence here is the fajr prayer.

   First prayer of the day, shortest prayer of the day, hardest prayer of the day. 'Whoever prays the two rakaa's before fajr will have the world and what it contains.' I used to be the one that woke up for tahajjud and woke up my family and made adhkaar and worked out and made breakfast and still made it in time for a 6.30am school bus. But back then, I lived with mum and dad and sister. I had a faith I never questioned. I had a love I didn't understand but whole-heartedly felt. I was a child and alhamdulillah, I am grateful for that.

   But college happened, life happened, and the world grew big and I grew small and all my questions spun a cloak around me. Religion and God would never be the same again. I lost touch with the people and things that mattered. I lost touch with myself. I have entered the erroneous world of 'early adulthood' where one is not quite an adult but sure does look like one. And I do sincerely feel that all this black smoke inside of me started when I left my first prayer of the day. Fajr.

   Which is why this is where I want to begin. There are countless other worries and we will get to the, but fajr is where I want to begin and inshaaAllah where I will. And by the end of this 21-day-challenge, I want to be a semblance of the person I once was: someone who wakes up before fajr, makes time for adhkaar, makes time for quran, makes time for her health and her well-being.

   inshaaAllah, ameen.


   So my question for you is: which side of the poem do you resonate with?


   All my love,

   Chu :)

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