Ilahi, I don't come to You asking for
forgiveness—I'm far too weak and lost
to muster remorse and regret for my sins.

I come to you with pieces of torn
paper as tokens of my istighfaar—I've
come to you seeking fake forgiveness.

Forgive me for my paltry asks of pardon,
for they are all I have, and hope, hope
in Your unrelenting mercy and good will.

You tell me to, and I don't;
You tell me not to, and I do.

I am the worst of children,
making faces when You give me
what I need instead of what I want.

I spill the milk in my bowl just to
see spilt milk and then I come back to
You, complaining of no milk, even though
You said not to be wasteful and to be thankful.

Here I am, my Lord, before You, looking
up with pleading eyes, even though I
should be looking down. I am the worst
of children who knows no manners

but I do know You don't turn away hands
raised to You, and there is no refuge for me
except with You, so pardon me and pour more milk into my broken bowl, so I may spill again

and come back to You, asking for more—
You are all I have. These hands and eyes
won't listen except to my qarin, and what
a woeful qarin he is, dooming me to Hell.

So please, take these pieces of paper
from me and forgive me my sins
and my fake istighfaar;

I have no good deeds to show.



© Walyullah