I was weary, and needed to rest,
I knocked on a door, but a voice said,
“Hush, hush, go away. Ghosts do not sleep.”
I felt hungry, and came to a family at dinner,
I took the empty chair, but the father said
“Hush, hush, go away. Ghosts do not eat.”
Hurt, hungry and tired, I found you sitting at the beach,
You were looking out to sea, and I started to cry,
You turned and you looked through me, then you said
“Hush, hush, go away. Ghosts do not weep.”
The Ghosting. Once I was the beloved, the cherished, the heard. I was listened to with love and kindness.
Those days are apparently gone, and though I am still here, writing and crying, I am to you a ghost, a painful shackle to a past best forgotten…
Like an inconvenient ghost living in your attic.
wa min Allah at-taufiq
Hate has no place in Islam
Love will show the Way