A Sound

We wear masks because our faces are sometimes too distorted for the world to accept, because our wounds are too deep for the world to understand, and because our scars are too hideous for the world to look at. I walk past time. I walk past place. I lose my shadow as I try to find who I really am. I try to look around and I see – I see the light. I try to grab it. I try to call for it, “Come! Stay! Linger!” It slips off my fingers and darks away. The room, no; the world where I stand gets colder. I look for a coat; Allah sent me a – a goat. I gaze for hours trying to understand this creature that came out of nowhere. I missed a sound and I missed everything that a coat could have offered. I wandered; not lonely. I wandered with the company of a goat that was patient enough to remain without food or drink until I reached a certain stop – a full stop.


I took a deep breath. And I felt my legs breaking into pieces of nothingness. I felt the shiver of a cold rainy evening and the warmth of a sweet companion or have you forgotten the goat?  I had no money. I had no food. I had no drinks. For days, milk was my only source of liquids and the rest I sold for my other food supplies. I stood there gazing at the goat I received. I wished for a coat!

But what good could a coat do to me?

Allah did hear me. I just misinterpreted what I should have asked for. It was never a \k\; it has always been a \g\ one long \g\ that ended with ‘t’ and milk. What I needed most. Not what I thought best.