The me in me is the fragile soul that strives to be perfect.
Like refining of me to meet everyone’s expectations.
The me in me is a tired soul that struggles to make me perfect.
The me in me lives in fear of the uncertainty that embraces the future.
So it propels my me to be ready for the future.
The me in me wishes me would stop impeding its perfection journey.
But my me is only human, that repeatedly falls but always get scolded by the me in me to never make mistakes.
The me wishes to have stunted maturity.
To be young forever, but the me in me chastise me whenever my lips squirt “How I wish I’m young forever”
The me in me always scream at me “why do you miss Tahajud?
What happened with your Duha?
Why don’t you say your prayers before leaving home?
Why do you sin?”
The me in me reprimands me,
Tongue-lashes me
Castigates me.
Like perfection was something everyone posseses except me.
Like every soul must attain Nafs Mutmainah.
Like Allah said the deficient soul won’t be forgiven.
One day, I was intrepid, my me turned to the me in me squealed back and said.
“I am human, mistakes have been embroidered and carefully weaved in the pores of my skin.
My me carve the lesson from the sculpture of my mistakes.
So each mistake is a step in the staircase of perfection.
And my Ibaadaat shows my Iman is an intonation,
Rising and falling to tell the story of a girl who is never meant to be an angel.
My sins show that I’m one of the best sons of Adam for the beauty of my sins lie in the repentance made in the silent night”
The me in me shivered and said “Ok ma’am”.
© Olatunde Azeezah (PenTalks)
English 
