My heart walks through the streets of Madinah,
though I remain oceans away.
I see lanterns glowing within each alleyway,
and every stone and rock
whispers a story
of those who walked this very place before me.
The call to prayer rises with the fresh breeze of wind,
each note gently passing through the date palms,
like the city itself is breathing remembrance.
And in every breath I take,
I taste longing sweeter than honey.
I imagine the Ansar,
with hearts open like the horizon,
welcoming the Messenger
with voices that turned every yearning to joy.
And I, though distant,
feel that wind upon my face,
as if this very heart was transported
into their embrace.
They say that distance is a wall,
but walls cannot confine
the heart and soul.
Qalbi fil Madinah.
My heart belongs therein,
sitting at your courtyard,
weeping and waiting,
patiently,
until the Beloved
finally calls me home.
