Ramadan Reflection: Short Story
Hungry and alone, I think of where to go next. It’s late at night and I find myself in a deserted train station with a packed suitcase waiting for a train to arrive. All alone with nobody to talk to, my mind starts to wander. The bench I am sitting on is hard and piercing my flesh. A look at the clock tells me everyone must be sound asleep by now, but here I am trying to get ahead and pull myself away from the comfort that I have grown so accustomed to. I could be one of those people with my face on a soft pillow, nicely tucked in under warm sheets having nice dreams and try to forget what lays ahead of me. The thing is… I don’t know what is ahead of me. I live in a world where anything is possible and where with the blink of an eye all security that you’ve build your world around and made it your home, can be snatched away. I live in a world where when all seems lost and when you feel like there is no hope for any kind of improvement, where when your heart has been shred to pieces, Mercy shines its light upon you and will make you feel like nothing ever happened. “So where will my faith lie for eternity?”…. I wonder. Nobody knows until it is too late to make any changes.
The time is here where the inhabitants of this world can better their souls by refraining from filling up their bellies and contemplating on the state of their being. And so I sit here on a bench, which is in desperate need of fixing. Enough splinters sticking out to harm anyone that tries to seek comfort in it by taking a seat on it. I’m stuck on the bench waiting for the train to arrive to take me to a better place. A place where the streets are lit at night and swept up at least five times day, where the poor and the needy are been giving what they need without having to ask for it, where there is no difference between a stranger and a friend, where Justice reigns and Love provides the warmth in every home. This is where I want to be and I realize this by looking at the beaten-down clock with broken glass laying right under it on the ground, some traces of blood are visible… someone must have hurt themselves while punching the glass, trying to stop time. But we can’t stop time, many have tried in vain. We have to try hard to be among those who live in that wonderful place where everything is right with not a care in the world and where peace whispers softly like a breeze into each and everyone’s ear. We will have to make sacrifices if we want to be inhabitants of this place so many dream of.
- By Noor. Taken from http://nur-ar-ramadan.tripod.com/id217.html