Haunting Sins

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I wonder how you get to sleep at night.

I wonder how could you possibly just close your eyes and shut the tall thick wooden doors on the world. Shut it out completely. Erase it from your mind. I wonder if you lie there staring at the ceiling, like normal people do, countless thoughts sprinting through your mind. Or does the intense burden of your sins exhaust you and you fall into a painless oblivion. Unaware and unconscious. You see, for me my sins keep me awake. They haunt me at every corner. I see their ugly faces grin at me through the darkness. I can’t seem to shut my eyes and shut them out. I wonder how you’re able to wave them aside with a whispered goodnight.

My mother always says people like you have the sweetest sleep. The sweetest dreams too. And I always try to detect the hint of sarcasm in her voice but I don’t find any. There never is. I wonder whether it’s your grandiose dreams of eternity and paradise that blind you completely. Maybe it’s the delicate veil of avarice that’s been so gently placed upon your heart that is to blame. I don’t know. And that’s what I wonder about on these sleepless sinful nights when I find myself wide awake, while you’re asleep.

I wonder what kind of unfairness this is that you get to sleep and the suffering turn and toss in their beds, all the sleep in their eyes dead and gone. You get to sleep while the oppressed lie there, wondering who they will lose next and how many more tears they shall shed. You get a peacefully ignorant sleep, unaware of the chaos and destruction you have caused, unaware of the mountains of curses that your people build for you. I wonder if there is anything called justice in your world. I don’t know. And that’s what I wonder about on these sleepless sinful nights when I find myself wide awake, while you’re asleep.

I wonder if you think about that rope. For some people He loosens it. Lets you dangle and play. But the more the rope is loosened and relaxed, the more painful and excruciating it will be when it’s dragged back.

But like everyone, on these murky black nights He awaits your return.


Born and raised in the UK, Ruqaiyya Maryam shares a roof with a mother who is obsessed with organic eggs and a father who loves to spend his time on eBay. She is currently doing a degree in Social Sciences, finding a cure to her OCSD (Obsessive Compulsive Shoe Disorder) and writing her first novel. She loves photography, is hopeless at cooking and gets her sleeves stuck in door handles (don’t ask!). She is a part of MYM as she wants to reach out to the Muslim Youth of today through her writing and experiences and of course play a tiny part in spreading this beautiful deen of ours.

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