I leave my grief for midnight when I pour out my heart to God only. — Shaheed Mostafa Chamran (via chador-lover)
(Source: sange-saboor, via chador-lover)
Life is sweet
But being with You Is far sweeter. — Rumi (via saalik)
From dust … to dust
(Source: mzajes3b, via darknessandlight)
ISIS executes 1,500 Shi’as in one day on Eid. Go on. Keep scrolling. Don’t speak up. Stay silent. You aren’t Shi’a so why should you care, they aren’t coming after you. Not yet anyway. But one day they will come to kill your sons and rape your daughters, and no one will be left to speak up for you.
(Source: sloppy, via coffeeandfaith)
"A billion galaxies will not satisfy the human soul." (Ps 8:3) Your heart was made for God. — John Piper (via littlethingsaboutgod)
(Source: kissthewave, via littlethingsaboutgod)
What was her crime?
Lord of beauty, Lord of grace,
Enter my soul
like one who enters a garden in bloom. — Rumi (via saalik)
Thoughts and prayers to all my brothers on the front lines in Iraq, fighting off foreign terrorists and traitors all while fasting in the brutal summer heat of Iraq. No one is protesting in solidarity with you. No hashtags. No banners. Despite all that I pray to God to keep you all standing strong, and to send those bearded rats to the depths of hell where they belong.
I look back and half of Ramadan is over in the blink of an eye. Before I know I’ll be saying that about my entire life. — Nouman Ali Khan (via nargessi)
The first sujud means that I was mud clay in the beginning, and as I raise my head from sujud, it means that I came to the world from the soil. The second sujud means that I will again return to the soil, and as I raise my head from sujud, it means that on the Day of Resurrection I will rise up from the grave and be summoned. — Imam Ali (as), [Bihar al-Anwar, V.82, P.139] (via sange-saboor)
(Source: withheartnsoul, via hawra313)
"they call us now.
before they drop the bombs.
the phone rings
and someone who knows my first name
calls and says in perfect arabic
“this is david.”
and in my stupor of sonic booms and glass shattering symphonies
still smashing around in my head
i think “do i know any davids in gaza?”
they call us now to say
you have 58 seconds from the end of this message.
your house is next.
they think of it as some kind of
war time courtesy.
it doesn’t matter that
there is nowhere to run to.
it means nothing that the borders are closed
and your papers are worthless
and mark you only for a life sentence
in this prison by the sea
and the alleyways are narrow
and there are more human lives
packed one against the other
more than any other place on earth
we aren’t trying to kill you.
it doesn’t matter that
you can’t call us back to tell us
the people we claim to want aren’t in your house
that there’s no one here
except you and your children
who were cheering for argentina
sharing the last loaf of bread for this week
counting candles left in case the power goes out.
it doesn’t matter that you have children.
you live in the wrong place
and now is your chance to run
it doesn’t matter
that 58 seconds isn’t long enough
to find your wedding album
or your son’s favorite blanket
or your daughter’s almost completed college application
or your shoes
or to gather everyone in the house.
it doesn’t matter what you had planned.
it doesn’t matter who you are
prove you’re human.
prove you stand on two legs.
run.” — running orders, by lena khalaf tuffaha (via kened)
I’m tired… I’m so tired. I thought I just needed a night’s sleep, but it’s more than that. — Inside Llewyn Davis. Dir. Joel Coen. (via wordsnquotes)