My eyes fill when I think of you; you are a closet in my mind, in my heart.
When people ask about you, I really don’t know how to summarise your bounty.
How can I possibly explain the depths of your detailed intricate design, and years of history and battle?
How can I possibly describe the feeling of tranquillity and inner peace I get from simply thinking about you?
How can I tell them that just knowing all prophets have prayed where I have prayed sends shivers down my spine?
How can I explain the breath-taking sight of over 150,000 people coming together on the 27th night of Ramadan just to be with you?
How can I tell them that I am in a constant state of heartbreak because of you, because I fear for you, for your safety?
You are full of love, and constantly you are battling for your life- you don’t deserve this.
You don’t deserve to have armed soldiers constantly surrounding you, constantly throwing tear gas at your people, constantly raiding your streets in the middle of the night and constantly taking your children away from you.
You don’t deserve to be empty, and only full on the occasional Friday.
You shouldn’t be used as a pawn in this game.
There shouldn’t be so much blood shed in your name.
Your children shouldn’t be denied the right to see you.
But you are so strong; you remain happy and hopeful through it all.
Your imaan is truly admirable.
And when I’m with you, I don’t like to show you that I’m angry, but I am.
I’m angry. I’m furious. And I’m frustrated that no one cares – that I have to just accept that today’s leaders aren’t leaders – they’re puppets.
And these puppets are too weak to speak to you, let alone un-cuff you.
Stay strong, for I will see you soon.
And I promise one day you will be freed.
You won’t have to close at certain hours of the night; people won’t be denied entry to see you; people won’t fear being near you.
And soon enough all of your people can visit you freely without going through hell first.
And I promise you that.
And Islam promises us that.