On my silent days..

On my silent days, my fear of death does not trouble me. I do not tremble at the thought of an ending. But I do long to see the years unfold, to witness the beauty of old age. Not because I fear what lies beyond, but because I yearn to see what still awaits me here.

I wonder what it would feel like to have hair kissed by time, hands etched with the stories of my journey. To see the faces of those I love grow older beside me. To sit in a room bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, smiling at the life I’ve built, the memories I have woven, the prayers that carried me through.

But the future is uncertain, and I am small before the grand design of fate.

On my silent days, I carry a heart full of whispers. Words unspoken, not because I have nothing to say, but because some things are better left between me and my Lord.

There are moments when the world feels too loud, yet I find myself retreating into quiet—seeking refuge not in people, but in solitude. Not in explanations, but in prayer. Because in the silence, I am heard.

So on my silent days, I do not complain. I do not seek answers where they are not meant to be found. Instead, I lift my hands and let my soul speak in the language it knows best.

"Ya Allah, if the road ahead is steep, give me strength to climb it."

"Ya Allah, if my heart wavers, steady my steps with Your guidance."

"Ya Allah, whatever is written for me, let me walk through it with faith."

"Ya Allah, please.. walk with me."

I will face whatever comes—grief, joy, loss, love, the unknown—but not before I pray.

Because before I walk, I ask for guidance. Before I fight, I seek strength. Before I surrender to the weight of this world, I remind myself that I am never alone.

And in that silence, I find peace.