Finding Oneness

When I am praying–truly praying–I lose myself

to my Self.

I become centered.

My husband once told me that he knows when I really pray–

When I really pray, I am hypnotized. When I don’t really pray, I fidget.

He is right.

(Once, I couldn’t control my laughter while praying and kicked and giggled on my prayer rug while my husband turned red trying to control his own outburst)–

He blamed Shaytan, I blamed the towel that was slipping off his hips exposing him.

I stare blankly in the direction of the kaaba

the corner of the room that is piled with dirty laundry

(I don’t know where to begin to clean up that mess)–

I imagine the way home,

again.

I am lost,

self within Self.

Searching and seeking,

dreaming of finding–

something I am sure I once had. Or imagined I had.

Lost.

Prostrating, I relinquish myself to a world I cannot hold.

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