When you starve your soul
From suffocating by your bed,
And you snail out of your shell
Legs curled in humility,
Hands mapped into a land of repentance.
Your sincerity thrusts
Dew to bleed from your eyes,
Astagfirullah is birthed like a baby.
The memories of sins
Whip for a downpour of rain,
So the next time you say it
“As – (sobs soaked in regret)- tagfiru (is mercy here?) – llah (there’s hope)
This sin buried in the cold night.
His mercy concealed the vestige, footprints and fingerprint and every of its existence.
The earth wakes up
To your voice digging the
Grave of your sins;
To the world collecting
Your footprints to your wrongs.
To your hole-filled mouth
Telling tales of the emptiness of your
Bed & the mourning of your sins.
Halt!
Stop!
Don’t you want to be forgiven?
Then conceal all He had concealed.
©️ Olatunde Azeezah (PenTalks)
