My midnight blues, My Religion is Love

Orlando Blues

I feel for the mothers

For their cries in the dark

I feel for the fathers

For the deep pain in their heart

I feel for the brothers, the sisters, the neighbors

For the memory they treasure

Of a young guy coming home

Being free to love

I feel for the killer

For his lack of self-love

I feel for his family

For the loss of innocence

I feel for the wounded

For the ones who survived

I feel for the dead

For their bodies lost in bloodshed

I feel for the world

For the ones feeling empty and scared

I feel for the world

For the ones who don’t care

I feel for the world

For the ones shouting back

Let us live in Peace

Let us free to be who we are.


I pray for the Orlando Victims of Human Madness

My midnight blues, My Religion is Love

Another kind of prayer

When I don’t have time to stop

The crazy speed of my busy life

When I can’t stop the race

And sit down for a while

I remember

That you are there with me

In the folding, the washing, the cleaning

In the hoovering, the ironing, the sweeping

In the sheets to hang

In the beds to make

In the cooking madness

In the table to set

In the laundry basket

In the rushing around


You are there

I can then stop worrying

Stop feeling guilty

Not having enough time

To sit down and talk to you

To sit down and say thank you

I offer you my day

As a prayer

Credit Image – Amuse Bouches Tumblr

My Religion is Love

Path of Love

Searching for my place

Searching for a path to follow

When roads are risky

And full of sorrow


Searching for a place to be

To feel secure

Like a light in the dark night

A place with a future


Searching again and again

Feeling trapped in nonsense

There must be a place

Where all of this makes sense


And then behind a song

Footsteps on the sand

A path to follow

Power in my hands


God is there

All along the way

Whatever you believe

And whatever the way you pray


I won’t say Jesus is my saviour

But I can say

That he is the one

Showing me the way

Out of pain

Out of suffering

Out of darkness

Out of craziness


Jesus is showing me the way to God

The way to peace and unaltered love

I just say his name

And I feel safe


The search ended

I found my place.


Kim, I own this to you – You are an angel!

My Religion is Love

My first Ramadan – The missed Eid

I know Ramadan is behind us. But I wanted to “kind of finish” what I started.

Back in 2011, after nearly 4 weeks of fasting and prayers, I was ready to go to the Mosque to celebrate the Eid. It was important to me as part of the experience I had decided to take and as part of sharing an important religious moment with my husband.

As it’s often the case, we got to know that Eid would be a day earlier than what was planned. I remember seeing my husband rushing home one evening, saying to me “wake me up early tomorrow; S. will collect me to go the Mosque”.

I don’t think he realized that I might have been happy to share this special moment with him too. He knew it during the afternoon, but he did not bother telling me. I could have asked my boss for a half day, before leaving work. I could not anymore. It was too late.

I remember leaving the next morning for work, feeling empty. I remember tears falling down my cheeks. I remember my husband calling and not understanding why I felt this way. I remember him, making fun of me, for acting so foolishly. I would say “we will have other Eid”.

I couldn’t explain it. I had felt such peace for one month. I had felt like I belonged. Belonging to what, I don’t know – Belonging to life, maybe. I had felt like nothing could bring me down, nothing could change me or break me. I had felt close to God, closer enough to feel that there was no fear to have, in this life, in the next. And in one second, all vanished. I was sitting on a solid rock and then it was only dust.

I don’t know whether it’s because I had expectations or because I thought that doing the Ramadan together would build us, as a couple, would help us grow, would make us stronger.

The day passed and evening came. He spent his with his friends. I came back home feeling down. I cried and I stopped talking about it. My husband would not have understood, or would not have wanted to understand.

It was not my religion after all. But I kept a wonderful memory of my First Ramadan, despite the sadness of the last day and the feeling that whatever I would do, the man I loved so much, would never ever understand me, my true feelings, would never really get to know who I was and what I was looking for.

My Religion is Love

My first Ramadan – Nasheed

I did not know what the word “Nasheed” meant. Internet says it means  Islamic vocal music.

At the beginning of Ramadan, I looked into everything I could find on the subject. I wanted to make it count. I wanted to get closer to God.

As I told you before, I did spent this time mostly alone. And it was great. I could decide what was good for me. I did not feel any pressure in doing this or that. Or not doing things right.

From beginning to end, I used to listen to this Nasheed. And it brought me peace and gave me a sense of belonging. I felt  I was part of a much bigger community than I ever thought could exist. I felt close to millions of Muslims fasting around the globe.

I was not alone.