22 July

Covid-19. The recent unrest in my country. The devastation, the destruction. The poverty, the hunger. The corruption.

I am feeling weak and vulnerable, and I’m sure I’m not alone.

I long for a little home in a coastal forest far away from ‘civilisation’ surrounded by nature and the creatures that are residents. But the time is still not right.

Today I seek solace from Laura, from what she left behind, her belongings which the government of Dubai tried to ensure I would never find. Her five abayas hang in my cupboard amongst my clothes, her hanging prayer mat and prayer beads hang from the cupboard door handle, I can see them now as I write.

I need to touch something Laura touched. I need to read something which she read. From what she left behind, a little book, Rumi – Whispers of the Beloved.

Everyday from start to end, I will share a page of the book, which Laura read.

‘Dear heart, where do you find the courage to seek the Beloved

when you know He has annihilated so many like you before?

I do not care, said my heart,

my only wish is to become one with the Beloved.”

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