AlAnoud Writes

I made a deal with the universe once,

a very polite, well-worded plea:

“Just give me one small shiny thing,

and I’ll stop asking for three.”

A job, a title, a stamped-in-ink pass,

a proof that says you belong

Surely then all the stuck-in-between

would feel slightly less wrong.

I said, “If this arrives, I’ll relax.

I’ll stop this dramatic internal fight.”

The universe blinked, sipped its tea,

and replied, “Not tonight.”

So I paced and I bargained and over-thought,

tripped over my own desire,

Called it greed, called it weakness,

called waiting a spiritual fire.

But alignment, it turns out, isn’t sparkle or proof,

or a gold-embossed reason to smile.

It’s not putting your heart in a holding bay

with a check back later file.

It’s wanting the thing without shrinking your soul,

or tying your peace to a prize.

It’s standing upright in the middle of not yet

with both feet and open eyes.

So today I retire the bargain.

The universe can keep its delays.

I’ll hum while I wait, take up space,

and breathe like I’m already okay.

If the door swings open .. lovely.

If not, I’ll still be here.

Aligned, slightly amused,

and refusing to disappear

The night sits low,

unbothered, unhurried 

like someone who already knows

how the story ends.

A thin line of light

rests on your table,

pretending not to care

where you’re headed next.

You breathe, steady,

as if the world finally moved

at your pace

for once.

No searching,

no noise 

just the quiet understanding

that some seasons change

only when you decide they should.

And in that stillness,

everything soft you thought you’d lost

returns,

without asking for permission

In fields of green where gratitude takes flight,

Beneath a bright blue sky with clouds so white,

The sprinklers spin their rainbows in the air,

And the divine’s soft love touches us in light.

We work and yet we dance on waves of breeze,

A Sufi spin of thanks and sacred ease,

The sun’s warm touch, the whisper of the day,

In every shade of green, the heart finds peace.

So gratitude becomes a sacred rhyme,

A flowing love that meets us every time,

The divine embrace that holds us near,

In every breath, we feel the love sublime.

Sunshine drapes the morning air,

A quiet warmth, a gentle prayer.

It slips through branches, soft and pure,

A golden touch that feels secure.

But deeper still, beyond the sky,

There shines a Light that cannot die

Light upon Light, serene and true,

A guidance flowing through and through.

Not every glow is seen by sight;

Some radiance dawns within the night.

Not every path is ours to choose

For God leads to His Light whom He wills to guide,

and hearts awaken when He decides.

The sun may rise and warm the day,

But His Light shows the truer way

A flame that lifts us from the dust,

That turns our fear into quiet trust.

Where truth is sought, His Light appears,

In whispered hope or falling tears.

A calm, a spark, a voice inside

The trace of mercy none can hide.

So let the sunshine grace your face,

But seek the Light that grants all grace.

For suns may fade and stars grow dim,

But God’s own Light returns to Him.

I was a wanderer of my own dust,

lost in the alleyways of “I” and “me,”

until the Heart’s Thief came

silent as dawn,

swift as a flame through dry reeds.

We think we walk the path,

but it is the Beloved

who drags us by the soul.

I cried out,

“Come to me,

let me see You,

let me taste the wine hidden in Your sky.”

For what is love

but the ache that empties us

of all but longing?

Beloved,

You heard me.

When Your Presence arrived,

every earthly sweetness

became a broken cup.

A thousand heavens

could not contain the joy

You poured into a single breath.

Who am I?

A mirror wiped clean.

A candle whose flame

has forgotten its name.

When You entered,

I vanished.

The caller disappeared.

The call disappeared.

Only the Answer remained.

There is no “I” left

to say “I love You”

Love itself speaks now.

Beloved,

when You finally took my name,

You left no trace of me behind.

The drop returned to the Sea,

and the Sea

remembered it had always been one.

Come,

let the world fade.

Let us drown again

in the sweetness where

the Lover

and the Loved

are one.

Suddenly,

it feels as though life never stands still

circles shift,

faces enter,

faces fade,

and nothing holds its place for long.

Even beliefs loosen,

re-form,

become new.

Yet everything turns

around one silent pillar

Him.

He.

Thee.

To see this clearly takes time.

The process is not always kind,

but I am strangely fascinated

by the recognition of it

even the heart refuses constancy.

And I wonder,

quietly,

what waits for me next.

I pray

that my steps fall upon the right path.

My past is full of gentle treasures

I carry with gratitude

but here, now,

today,

I learned something simple and profound:

Striving for good,

seeking to transform one’s state,

does not contradict contentment.

السعي في تحصيل الخير وتغيير الحال لا يتنافى مع الرضا

2021

I am writing.

I find myself here every night, typing

my notes, my therapist, my friend,

my fear, my enemy without an end.

Something rises, taking over me.

I hold a tear that won’t let me be,

a tear that bothers me because I can’t see

where it was born or what it wants from me.

There’s a quiet blast inside my chest,

a trembling rhythm that won’t rest

a melody my heart tries to confess

in scattered notes I can’t address.

I feel like a piano; old, worn, beige,

a rustic relic from another age,

standing on legs exhausted by weight,

playing out feelings I can’t translate.

What am I saying? Who would understand?

I suffocate in silence, sinking in notation land.

There’s a burden unseen, my hidden plea.

Can you hear the piano’s keys inside of me?

I guess not.

So I play till my fingers bleed

and somehow find beauty in the thing I need:

how the red from my hands stains ivory clean,

matching the piano’s keys like it’s part of the scene.

Here I go again, walking the dark,

finding light in a place without sparks.

The rest stays unspoken

unshared,

unimportant.

I am done.

After work.

After school.

After a night that tasted of friends and noise,

or a day that ached quietly inside the chest.

I wait at a red light.

The city breathes in sleep 

a low hum under the wheels,

a whisper from the street lamps.

The moon changes her face 

sometimes whole,

sometimes broken,

sometimes gone.

Yet the light falls the same on my hands,

on the steering wheel,

on the road that forgets every name.

There is no music now,

only the soft click of time.

The heart slows, the air forgives.

And through it all 

the laughter, the silence, the ache 

one presence remains:

a love too quiet to be seen,

too vast to be touched,

yet close enough

to breathe beside me

at the red light.