TALES FROM AROUND THE WORLD

You aren’t more difficult to see than a black ant, scampering over a black rock, under the cover of the darkest of moonless nights. You aren’t more difficult to hear than Yoonus (as) was when he cried out in the belly of a whale, in the darkness and depth of the night sea. What is inside you isn’t harder to know than every single leaf that changes colour and falls off of every autumn tree. Allah (swt) sees you, hears you, and knows what is hidden so deep within yourself that it may still be a mystery even to you. He can distinguish your quiet whispering voice from the voices of billions of others. The bustling of marketplace shouts and arguments do not drown you out. The roaring of stormy oceans do not drown you out. Your voice doesn’t crackle or get cut off when you’re calling out to Him. This isn’t a long distance phone call. Your suffering isn’t unknown to Him. Your anger isn’t unknown to Him. That which you’ve suppressed and controlled within you isn’t unknown to Him. The truth of ...

In the police station from which the street got its name the inspector’s stomach was telling him it was Lunch time. He wiped his fat face with his handkerchief for the tenth time that afternoon, wishing he could crawl out of his damp skin, he looked up at the pathetic excuse for a ceiling fan that groaned as if it hated its job and sighed in frustration, he couldn’t wait to get out of his office. “I was on my way out so you would have to make this fast. Who are you and why did you ask to see me?” he asked the man sitting from across his desk. “I was told you are the man in charge here.” Trying to hide his impatience the inspector nodded. “Yes how may I help you?” “I want to make a confession.” For a moment the inspector wondered if he looked like a reverend father to the man. “You do realise this is a police station” “Yes sir.” “All right Mr…” “Patrick Attah.” “Patrick Attah I am Inspector Gabriel Annum. What is your confession?” he asked trying not to sound impatient. If this was one ...

Silence.. Her fragile body laid Her heart, a train pounding down its tracks. The fire of aching burns of dark monster suffocating in hurt She wished it will stop but walls are too strong Stronger than a teak tree powerful than hydrogen bomb. Black and blue fear Pain tearing down her spinal cord. that the wall could choke and drown in raging seas of her tears The storm could loose it's strength compared to darkness of her pains The earth could freeze from the shrieks of her inner soul If she could once again Fly and live to Illuminate paths of love She must soar above the buried white elephant in her living room. She waits for the twilight to give way for dawn for the day to shut down, a path to night. for the moon to sleep so that Sun can wake up For her to catch her breath "To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow" Until then, only Silence remains...

How will you know if you don't read In life race, why do readers take lead Outstanding like foreign breed, On foxes, they hungrily feed. "No knowledge is a loss" My Sensei's creed The Holy Book revelation began with "Read" But like mule you didn't take heed, And you boast "I don't read!" Read! And the obscuring fog will flee in light speed Read! And you will know flower from the weed Read! And your quandaries will bow and concede Read! And claws of fate can't make your bleed Read! For you have taken the path succeed

Does he really mock calling a hen, a bird? If not a bird, What then should he call a dove, a butterfly? True, A cock is but a bird, So, call him not a plane simply because Its wings too could soar To the sky I stress, To a hen Grains are the best of Gold, not songs! If the wind lies, Simply, ask a lioness If grass, not flesh Is of any use to her?

Millions of orbiting hearts in obedience they accept: The brightness of his vision, The simplicity of his teachings, The clarity of his objective The profundity of his philosophy His mission, unambiguous His nobility, unmatched His humility, bold as a full moon His love, a tranquil apple To all believing souls His trustworthiness, a rescue-canoe from turbulent waters His life, a blessing to mankind And a beam to all In victory, Always compassionate, Merciful, Forgiving to the vanquished lots In defeat, Always patient, Calm, Thankful to He Who pilots all affairs Yesterday, No gem was as sparkling as his Today, No jewel as radiant as his Tomorrow, No star will be as bright as his

Everywhere around me was abuzz with noise, but as it is I can barely hear them. It was like been immersed in a body of water. The voices came to me like they were from thousands of miles away. On so many occasions I have come across kids like me running around laughing and playing, with a care freeness that I have never experienced in what now seems like millenniums ago. I have come across kids who swear they hate their parents. ‘I wish I could go live with my Uncle. There I never get to do anything; I never get to be nagged like my mum always does.” ‘Who does he think he is? Is it because he is my father? I am sick and tired of this house!’ ‘I wish everybody would just disappear, I have the meanest parents.’ If only they know. If only they know what it is like not having parents. If only they knew. They would understand how ignorant and foolish they sound. I would give an arm and a leg just to have a father or a mother, even if they don’t do anything for me. Even if I will walk in ra...