My beloved Palestine,
Assalamualaikum, how are you? Even though I already know the answer to that question. This letter is long overdue, but I thought—better late than never.
You know, I have always wanted to visit you–to pray in the Masjid al-Aqsa, sit in the circles of the Masjid, and sip some coffee at the underground café. It is my dream to walk the path of the prophets and be awe-struck by every historical landmark. You are an inspiration—a land of the prophets and great leaders.
I sit here in my privileges thinking about you while you can’t even be sure of your next second. I feel guilty, ya Palestine, for being helpless, though I don’t appear so. I am surrounded by my insecurities, while you are surrounded by the absence of security and safety. I open Instagram to see what’s new—until I see faces pleading for help, faces I simply scroll past.
Sometimes, I marvel at your strength and resilience while I crumble under the weight of my own small problems. Ah, my problems! They are nothing compared to the drop of blood you shed.
Sometimes, I feel lost, wandering without purpose—yet you remain steadfast even after losing your soul of souls and countless loved ones. I wish I could be there with you, wiping your tears, embracing you, and supporting you. But my cowardice and helplessness have failed you countless times, and they continue to do so. Instead of seeking more ways to help, I ignorantly question the support that reaches you. I feel guilty, ya Palestine, for being helpless, though I don’t appear so.
I do not seek your sympathy, but I do seek your forgiveness—for being so shameless, though I don’t appear so. The thought of your oppressed duas against me terrifies me, and I dread the day our Rabb will question me for deserting you.
I take pride in my mere protests and boycotts, yet I fail to extend kindness even to the Muslims around me. I share posts about you on my page, but I rarely discuss you with my family and friends. I am inspired by your Eeman and Taqwa, yet I complain endlessly when pricked by a mere thorn.
I have become pathetic, ya Palestine, though I don’t appear so.
Ya Palestine! My dear Palestine! I don’t need any recognition from you, but know that I ache to see you in pain. Our prophet ﷺ has said that if a part of me is hurt, the whole lot does feel pain.
Ya Palestine, we see you, and we love you–you are not alone.
Ya Palestine, I am not truly hopeless, though I may look so.
We are all holding onto the strongest of weapons—our du’a. You are in every part of my du’a, despite my other feeble efforts. My dear Palestine, our du’as and minor efforts will not stop until you are victorious, and that day is near—even if it doesn’t seem so.
Ya Palestine, you have achieved what a hundred da’ees could never accomplish.
Ya Palestine, you have inspired more Muslims than any mentor ever could.
Ya Palestine, your cries have united the Ummah in prayer and struggle—something no leader has ever done.
And one day, you will be victorious and free, and we will celebrate together! Victory will be ours by the mercy of Allah, Who has willed it so!
Until then, we will meet soon—in this world or the next.
Yours beloved,
Ummah
Written by: Musmirah
Edited by: The Editorial Team
© The Islamic Reflections Blog