She Walks To Thee Barefoot

She walks to Thee barefoot.

Her destiny is changed:
she now seeks Thee on this plane of humanity, 
of duality.

Thou asked her for so much.

To love unconditionally in the places where there was none of Thy light.

Thou asketh her to love herself first. 
How does one love oneself with the passion and the purity 
as Thou dost?

How does she keep her soul intact, 
her dreams alive, 
her love a never-ending source of comfort and softness
to those who seek her out?

She walks to Thee barefoot...
on the sands of Kerbala...
on the sands of Turkey, Egypt... 
all over the world she seeks Thy face.

She walks to Thee in trepidation,
for she is nothing as You envisaged.

She is broken, she is mangled,
bits of her being are still embedded in the hearts of others.

She needs release... she cannot find it.

Please bring her back to the place she calls Home.

Take her back into Thy arms... she finds great comfort there.

Thou art the only recourse when all else falls away....

Why is there such separation, such emptiness?

I ask Thee, of my free will, to bring me back to thy pathway, 
to prostrate to Thee on the muddied turbah that brings my heart such peace.

Ala bi dhikrillahi tatma'3inal quloob...

Your child seeks Thee, surely you cannot deny her her home again? 
Surely Thou art the Merciful, 
the One who brings her to Thou holiest of places and anoints her 
with the powder of Holiness, of sanctity

Of Purity....

She seeks to become 
Taherah... 
Zahidah... 
Saajedah....

Deny her not.

You did not deny those who love Thee, nor those whom Thou loves....

How can you deny the sinner,
the wretched, the unoriginal,
the blind, the slave to man,
the one attached to this world and all the illusions?

The ignorant are in more need of Thy love than those who know.

I walk to Thee barefoot...
may I soon fly to Thee with glistening wings of light...

This is not what I had thought my pathway would be.

Allah... ou-es Toi?
And Who Am I?

Sukaina Juma
24 March 2013

such a beautiful boy

She could feel the familiar pull of wanting to take him, as she wanted to with all of the little boys she knew, in her arms and open them up to feelings they were unaware they could feel with a nurturing, protective, safe, gentle, delicate love.

Opening their hearts to feel, to release it all, to live, to then scream in ecstasy and to breathe free.... to be the true nature of themselves...

And that's when she knew she had to go.

The bodily and emotional responses cut through the sense and wisdom like a samurai's sword.

She knew better this time.

She sang out "God be with you" in what had become an automatic formula that had lost it's meaning and he replied the same.

Retroactively, as she travelled home on the bus, exhausted, she really sent him divine Love and wondered if he had eaten his dinner. She loved him. Purely. Just like the first one. Programming can be such a powerful thing if one is unaware. Thankfully, she was aware now.

This little serendipity was such a blessing. Such a sweet, unexpected blessing.

Such a beautiful boy. Like honeysuckle. She could see herself in him, of course. That is why her heart spontaneously opened up to let him in.

"May he receive the help he needs in perfection... may he be able to reach his fullest potential. May he know true Love."

Just contact with the divine masculine or with those she could pray for... was such a blessing now.

Her heart continued to sing and asked for more tall, dark, handsome men... some of whom she could have a spiritual partnership with.

Well, that was her ego talking.

She needed just the one true love this lifetime.

Promiscuity may have been in her energy, but the way she had been living her life, it would seem she had taken a vow of celibacy to counteract the chaos of previous lifetimes.

These tiny signs from God were so sweet, as though He had tucked away tiny presents for her to uncover along this treasure hunt of reality.

And sometimes, she got whacked by a big smack of humiliation.

ebb and flow....

grace and justice...

karma must be balanced...

She allowed for herself to be in the space of neutrality and non judgement.

she is the one whom he could not love

She creates such beautiful pictures in her head.
The world and all its timelines are malleable in her hands,
just like the gooey substance that clay is made of.

She enjoys playing in the mud,
making a mess of something when, if she chose,
she could stand up and walk away.

Or could she?

She had really wanted him.

She had really, really wanted him.

Of all the things that confused her, the way he made her feel safe and gave her comfort confused her the most. Just by thinking of him, just by growling his name in her throat, she called him to her. He would be there besides her, comforting her, nurturing her heart and body in a way she couldn't do for herself.

He had had good intentions. He used fancy ways to express himself just to woo her. Just to make an impression on her bloodstained soul.

"I like you just as you are, little one. I am not going anywhere. If we have a connection, why are you hiding from me? Why are you rejecting me over and over again? Why won't you let me love you?"

Her heart responded, even though her lips could not, " You don't know how to love yet, my boy. You think you do, but you only love yourself, and even that... not fully. You pick and choose whom you love, when you love, and how you love. Is that what you wish me to settle for?

You said I am one of the few people you can tolerate.

Tolerance? Is that what I ask from you? Tolerance? Is that all you can give me?

I fucking love you, boy. Can you not feel it in your veins, in your pores, in every breath you take?

Does my voice not haunt your dreams the way yours does mine?

I. Fucking. Love. You.

It fucking scares the hell out of me that I can love you with such a deepness, with such a desperation, with such a falling and lack of control.

I feel guilty as hell for not letting you love me, be near me, touch my cheek, the small of my back, the beating of my heart, I can't even let you hold my hand. I want you to slowly rub the insides of my thighs until I orgasm my wetness all over your hands: your silky soft, dangerously attractive hands.

Have you seen how beautiful your hands are? Have you really seen yourself? The moment I saw them, I wanted to hold them, to feel them stroke me all over, until I vibrated and meshed inside of you.

Do you know how gorgeous your eyes are?

They are molten, alluring like a gazelle's.

You are soft inside. So soft, so vulnerable. I saw you, I wanted to take you in my arms and just hold you until you stopped hurting so much. That's all.

And all you have shown me is facade, bravado... and I can't break through to you. And, in spite, I choose not to let you come near me. Because... you will HURT me and I am done with hurting you."

He left. Because she loved him. He actually left the moment she told him she loved him. It was puzzling, it was interesting. She thought the boy she fell in love with would be immune to the cliche of giving up the chase. She thought it was a spiritual union.

She thinks too much.

An interesting exercise.

The dusk falls upon the town she lives in. She is tired.

Why did she think of him today? Because she did something she did a year ago.

A year ago he married his soul mate, the right one. She tried to rise above it and understand that he did not want to be with her. It was too much for her to keep inside, though.

Because it was her fault. She drove him away. There was something inherent in her that he did not like, for which he could not open his heart and love her with the soft tenderness she felt for him.

And so she bled. She made herself bleed and experience a searing pain.

"He can love someone else, commit to her, marry her, make love to her repeatedly, penetrate her body, buy her groceries, they will soon have a boy who will look exactly like him... so why not me? Why was he not the patient man he told me he was? Why did he not wait for me to grow open?"

She remembered him today. Just in passing.

We do not control the thoughts we think. They just enter our minds, then leave if we allow them to. We are in a big cosmic soup, a melange of energies and intentions and barriers and experiences.

He liked to play football and cricket. Those facts somehow aroused her at the time.

Sleep is vital for the undead.
Their pallid souls revive with sleep.
Their aching heads heal,
as archangel Raphael weaves his green threads
through the night.

Healing the girl who still aches for him sometimes.

She is the one whom he could not love.

An unfathomable silence permeates.

The veils are many, the barriers interject.
Rather than focussing on all of them, she sticks like glue to the one thing she can think of.
She cannot see.

When they do meet, he will be safe from her and she from him.
Neither of them will speak;
it will be clear and manifest in luminous writing.

Tolerance and safety cannot be a foundation for a relationship.

Let it go. Do not listen to the mind which says you are Lady Macbeth. Barren and bloodied.

It is only as true as you wish it to be.
Mercy and grace are forces which come through your sleep.
He is kinder than you give Him credit for.

She bows her head down in submission to the Lord of the Worlds.
She may be far from Him,
but that does not mean that she is damned for eternity.

Two things can happen:
both are acceptable once she truly surrenders.
Awareness comes first, though, my dear.

~ Sukaina Juma
9th March 2013