There are many different levels of patience, but the highest level of patience is Beautiful Patience. This is the level attained by Prophet Yacub as mentioned in Isra’s Pt 1. The root word of patience, sabr, means to hold back, restrain. Over the past couple months, Isra and I were forced to discipline ourselves and remember to be beautifully patient through all of our struggles. It was so difficult especially when losing things I loved, holding back my frustration with others, or having to wait for certain outcomes. So we were tested and tried. There were moments of complete weakness, profuse crying, and times when I felt like there was no way out. But Allah is greater than all of that, and He never leaves a person who persistently works on being patient. I needed to remember that, and alhamdulilah Isra and I continuously reminded each other to be beautifully patient. We may not have reached this highest level, but it’s a work in progress. Prophet Muhammad says, “Whoever persist in being patient, God will make him patient. Nobody can be given a blessing better and greater than patience.” [Bukhari].
Below, is a spoken word piece I wrote reflecting on this theme.
securely tucked in beneath the hard brown film.
Curiously examining the rough edges,
wanting to expose the depth within.
In the process of healing,
needing more time for its restoration.
Frustratedly impatient for his long remodeling,
time to chip at its corners, and quickly yank off the encrustation.
Out flows what was covered from beyond his scab,
weeping his red sorrows,
Reminiscing his origin,
a flitting memory of confusion.
Why did he have to touch the fire to feel the burn?
Not only did he go near it, but he fully plunged.
So-called friends he lived for,
he picked up his blunt joining their stunts,
a facade of friendship, snickers all around.
Struggling to overcome, a plastered smile,
he walks away with with a wounded heart.
Already played with fire, suffering the burns,
aimlessly walking, not knowing who to love or where to turn.
He stands alone, hot tears in his eyes refusing to spill,
but he falls to his knees, collapses in anguish,
desperately sobbing to end this madness.
Ya Allah, show me the way, give me guidance,
give me patience, don’t let me be forsaken.
Fear not, you’ll never be abandoned,
Look within, beside you, you will find Him,
Closer than the rhythmic beating you feel in your neck.
For He is the Loving, the Protector, the Guide, the Most Merciful.
He breaks you, only to build you stronger.
Examine once more, allow the mending to make the folds.
Leave the frustration, and hang on to beautiful patience.
Bleed out your past mistakes to dispel the illness,
take part in the restoration, watch yourself grow.
Patched up, renewed,
securely tucked in beneath a glowing light.
Curiously examining the shining edges,
wanting to radiate the beauty within.
In the process of healing,
a continual remodeling,
a beautiful patience,
for a luminous renovation.
Hold on tightly, don’t let go,
He has never moved an inch, it is you who wanders,
so stand firmly in strength, nearing Him, overcoming your adversities.
Reminisce on this light, a memory of clarity,
And be patient with beautiful patience.
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