AlAnoud Writes

If one day
you find yourself stopping
for no reason at all,

and a familiar warmth
settles softly on your shoulder,

don’t ask whose hands it was.

Some things return to us
without footsteps,
without names.

I have buried
every unspoken word
beneath a tree
that has never forgotten spring.

When its branches bloom,
they will not carry flowers.

They will carry
every kindness
we almost gave,
every goodbye
we could never finish.

The wind will gather them gently,
and the sky,
knowing nothing of our story,
will scatter them
across someone else’s lonely afternoon.

Perhaps that is how
love survives ..
not by remaining,
but by becoming
something the world mistakes
for a breeze,
a ray of sunlight,
or the sudden feeling
that everything,
for just one quiet moment,
will be alright.

The soul may weep for passing days,
Yet knows this world is but a phase;
True peace is found when one lets go,
And leaves behind what cannot stay.

No home awaits when life is done,
Except the one our deeds have spun;
If built with good, it shines above,
If built with wrong, its light is none.

Where are the kings of wealth and might,
Who ruled the earth with pride and right?
Death raised its cup before their eyes,
And turned their glory into night.

Their vaults were filled with gems and gold,
Their banners flew, their tales were told;
Yet all they owned passed to new hands,
While they grew silent, still, and cold.

We walk among the dust of years,
Of broken hopes and vanished spheres;
The world remains, but all who claimed
Its lasting love have disappeared.

So hold not tightly what must fade,
Nor trust the shadow wealth has made;
For every crown returns to dust,
And every debt of life is paid.

Seek then a treasure time can’t steal,
A truth no passing age can seal;
For what endures when all else ends
Is not what shines, but what is real.

There was a desk that learned my name,

in tidy lines, in steady frame,

where days were filed in black and white

and effort dressed itself as right.

I showed up early, stayed a while,

refined the work, rehearsed the smile,

believed that time, if given more,

might open some unspoken door.

The ceilings didn’t press or break,

they simply held, for safety’s sake,

and in that calm, well-ordered air,

I learned how much a silence bears.

I grew.. but sideways, not ahead,

in careful thoughts I never said,

while titles stayed politely still

despite the weight of quiet will.

No moment split the ground in two,

no sudden shift, no clearer view,

just something subtle, almost kind,

that rearranged me from inside.

A gentle sense, too soft to fight:

you’ve done your part, now choose your light,

not out of loss, nor out of spite

just knowing when to step out right.

So I will close what’s neatly done,

no undone threads, no battles won,

just leave behind a well-kept place

that held me once.. but not my pace.

And when they ask, I’ll simply say

it felt like time to move away,

no sharper truth I need to give

just that I’ve learned a different way to live.

When the world is a storm and it pulls you apart,

And noise floods the edges of thought and of heart,

When everything rushes, demanding you move.. 

There’s a place within you that does not approve.

It does not resist, it does not demand,

It waits like still water, untouched, unmanned.

While chaos is shouting, restless and wild,

This place remains steady, patient and mild.

You’ve felt it before, in a pause, in a breath,

In a moment that slipped through the fingers of stress.

A silence so deep it made time feel untrue,

As if all of the noise could not quite reach you.

The world may be breaking in all that you see,

But not every wave has to carry you to sea.

For somewhere beneath all the crash and the spin,

There’s a quiet that lives, unshaken, within.

It asks nothing grand, no escape, no control,

Just that you remember the shape of your soul.

Not the one shaped by fear, by pressure, by role..

But the one that is whole, already whole.

So stand in the storm, let it circle and cry,

You don’t have to silence it, don’t have to try.

Just turn ever slightly, as if toward a friend,

And rest in the stillness that does not depend.

For peace is not found when the world falls away,

It’s found in the heart that learns how to stay..

Quiet, aware, though everything spins…

Holding the calm that already begins.

في دروبِ القلبِ أسعى خاشعًا

أطرقُ الأبوابَ بحثًا عن الرِضا

ليس مالًا، ليس مجدًا زائلًا

بل سكونُ الروحِ إن ضاقَ الفضا

يا إلهي، علّمني كيفَ القَبولْ

كيف أرضى حينَ تَشتدُّ السُبُلْ

كيف أُبصر في البلاءِ نعمةً

وأرى اللطفَ الخفيَّ في الثِّقَلْ

الرِّضا سرٌّ عميقٌ ساكنٌ

في يقينٍ لا يُزعزعهُ الأجلْ

هو تسليمُ الفؤادِ لِحُكمِكَ

حين لا نفهمُ، لكن نعتدلْ

فاجعلِ الرِّضا رفيقي دائمًا

واجعلِ الطمأنينةَ لي وطنْ

إن رضيتُ، صار كلُّ الكونِ لي

واكتفى قلبي…

وكانَ بما كَتَبْتَ مُطمئنْ

I am the olive tree.. ancient, awake,

A story no storm has managed to break.

Before there were borders, before there was name,

I stood in the silence, unshaken, the same.

My roots run deep where the old voices sleep,

Through centuries buried, through secrets I keep.

They twist through the earth, through memory and stone,

They whisper: you’ve always been here, you’ve always been home.

It takes a lot. Yes, a lot, a lot

To move what time itself forgot.

The winds may rage, the skies may scream,

But I am older than the storm’s own dream.

They push, they pull, they test, they try,

They darken the earth, they trouble the sky

But I do not shatter, I do not bend,

I am not a moment that comes to an end.

Pressure has knocked like a thief at my door,

Fear has circled, demanding more

“Will you fall? Will you fade? Will you loosen your claim?”

But I answered in silence: I remain the same.

For I am not weak, I am not unsure,

I am the constant, steady, secure.

I sway with the wind, but I do not depart,

For the land beats within me, a permanent heart.

I stand tall; not loud, but clear,

Rooted in truth that outlives fear.

I stand here; not lost, not thrown,

Every grain of this soil knows my tone.

This land is not something I borrow or see

This land breathes within me, as I breathe it. I am it, it’s me.

I am the land, the air, the sky,

The echo that does not pass or die.

White and maroon flow quiet and true,

 A الأدعم لوني— my soul’s own hue.

Not worn as color, not draped as pride,

But lived in my roots, where my truths reside.

A rhythm that pulses, a flame that won’t flee,

A banner that rises from deep within me.

Generations speak through the lines of my frame,

Each leaf holds a story, each branch holds a name.

I carry their voices, their strength, their decree

They are not behind me… they are within me.

So let the world tremble, let doubt take its stand,

Let questions fall heavy like dust on the land

I will not wander, I will not stray,

For here I was rooted, and here I will stay.

I do not break.

I do not sway.

I do not leave.

I stay.

I am.

I wake into a room that already exists.

Light on the wall, pale and slow, like something that insists.

I lie still for a moment, aware of breath and skin.

No story yet. No victory. No loss. Just the quiet I’m in.

At work the world arranges itself in lines.

Emails, voices, deadlines, measured designs.

I speak in a tone that sounds like control.

I move through decisions that resemble a role.

From the outside everything holds its frame.

Inside, something watches without a name.

Am I okay?..  I ask without fear.

The question does not echo; it simply appears.

Not heavy. Not bright. Not sharply defined.

Just a steady horizon at the edge of the mind.

At home the air loosens its grip.

Shoes on the floor. Thoughts that slip.

The silence is wider. The light is low.

Time moves without needing to show.

I sit in the middle of nothing extreme.

Not a collapse. Not a dream.

This is the neutral ground I stand on tonight.

Neither shadow nor blazing light.

What is real .. the motion, the part?

Or the quiet observer behind the heart?

Zoom out.

The day becomes small and the city grows wide.

My doubts shrink down to a passing tide.

Zoom out further,  beyond street and sky.

The earth keeps turning without asking why.

And here I remain, simple and still.

Not chasing a peak. Not climbing a hill.

Just here in the center of what I can be.

Uncertain, awake, and strangely free…

Your wishes were written long before your sight,

softly inscribed in the margins of light.

Your dreams were never fragile or far,

they lived where your deepest beginnings are.

What’s meant for you does not drift or stray,

it moves with the patience of night into day.

Not lost, not delayed, not denied by fate,

only awaiting its destined state.

Time is no enemy standing above,

but a careful sculptor of strength and of love.

Shaping your spirit, steady and wise,

preparing your hands for your own sunrise.

Nothing you seek has wandered away,

nothing you hope for has faded to grey.

The journey you walk, the road you pursue,

is simply the world aligning with you.

And when it arrives, as all things do,

you’ll feel what was always silently true.

No sudden miracle, no unknown call

just the gentle knowing: it was yours all along.

Pressure is a privilege, feel it press,

It shapes your spine, it carves your yes.

It means you’re standing where it’s real,

Where dreams demand you show your steel.

Mistakes are not the mark of shame,

They’re sparks that teach you how to aim.

Don’t call them loss, don’t bow in fear

They’re feedback whispering, adjust right here.

Pay attention. Stay awake.

Be curious. Be quick to break

Old skins, old doubt, old borrowed sight

Be nimble in the changing light.

Don’t take the weight of words too deep,

Some stones are not yours to keep.

Guard your fire. Protect your view.

Never lose the dream that chose you.

Struggle isn’t something you end,

It walks beside you, foe and friend.

And freedom? No, she’s never done.

She’s not inherited, she’s won.

Earned by breath. By choice. By stand.

By steady hearts and open hands.

Each generation pays the due

To win again what once was true.

So stand. Learn. Listen. Press ahead.

Let pressure crown you, not break your head.

G- 2023

I am tired in a way that rest won’t mend,

A quiet weight with no clear end.

Not tired of work, nor tired of try,

But tired of holding what passes by.

I stand prepared, my voice held low,

Three steps ahead of what they know.

I carry more than I am named,

Give without being fully claimed.

I watch things circle, slow and near,

Titles unspoken, promises unclear.

They hover close, yet never land,

As if commitment needs a hand.

There’s anger here I do not show,

Too sharp to let, too calm to grow.

Beneath it rests a softer plea:

To be met where I already be.

I ask no praise, no grand display,

No spotlight cast upon my way.

Just simple truth, aligned and fair .. 

Let what I hold match what I bear.

I’ve been ready, long before

Readiness knocked upon the door.

And waiting now feels less like grace,

More like absence taking space.

If something binds me, let it stay,

Spoken clearly, not delayed.

If something comes, let it be known,

With a name, a shape, a tone.

Or else I’ll loosen what I hold,

Not from anger, not from cold,

But clarity that softly sees

When staying asks too much of me.

For I am done.. calm, not afraid!

Standing ready, over-stayed.

The door I wait for, I now know,

Was mine to open long ago.

I seek refuge بِرَبِّ ٱلۡفَلَقِ , the Splitter of dawn,

The ٱلنُّور tearing night where fear had drawn.

With ٱلۡمُبۡدِئ, bringing all from start,

And ٱلۡخَٰلِق knowing every hidden part .

From harm within what ٱلۡبَارِئ shaped,

From paths where even good feels scraped.

From night when ٱلۡقَابِض lets darkness close,

Till ٱلۡبَاسِط spreads what morning knows.

From whispered knots and silent breath,

Where harm is worked without a threat

But ٱللَّطِيف sees what hands conceal,

And ٱلۡحَكِيم undoes what words make real.

From envy when the heart turns tight,

Against ٱلۡوَهَّاب and gifted light.

where ٱلۡعَدۡل balance stays,

Let ٱلۡحَفِيظ guards me through all days.

I return, when all seems torn,

To ٱلسَّلَام,

to رَب الفَلَق.

قُلۡ أَعُوذُ بِرَبِّ ٱلۡفَلَقِ (1) مِن شَرِّ مَا خَلَقَ (2)وَمِن شَرِّ غَاسِقٍ إِذَا وَقَبَ (3) وَمِن شَرِّ ٱلنَّفَّٰثَٰتِ فِي ٱلۡعُقَدِ (4) وَمِن شَرِّ حَاسِدٍ إِذَا حَسَدَ (5)

I carry storms I never show,
a quiet ache that moves in slow.
Not sharp enough to make me bend,
just there.. an ache without an end.

My thoughts collide, they rush, they race,
fear and hope share the same space.
Nothing settles, nothing stays,
yet nothing breaks beneath the haze.

Excitement hums beneath my skin,
not joy, not peace.. just pulling in.
A signal soft, a subtle sign
that something here is still mine.

Worry walks a step behind,
asking questions I can’t define.
It doesn’t shout, it doesn’t plead,
it stays because it knows I care indeed.

And under all this restless sound,
a deeper stillness can be found.
Not calm from knowing how things end,
but calm that says: I’ll stand. I’ll bend.

I am sad and tangled, torn yet whole,
chaos dancing with control.
Afraid, alive, unsure, yet free..
many truths living in me.

He is with you where you stand,

in every grain of drifting sand,

in every breath your lungs command,

in every trembling, open hand.

When night falls heavy on your sight

and doubts grow louder in the night,

He walks with you beyond your fright,

a hidden, steady, faithful light.

When hearts grow tired, when hopes feel thin,

when all the wars are fought within,

He knows the scars beneath your skin,

the quiet prayers you never spin.

You don’t need words, you don’t need proof,

His mercy is your silent roof.

Above your fears, beyond your truth,

He keeps you safe, He holds you close.

In every tear you try to hide,

in every lonely step you stride,

He is the strength you keep inside,

the unseen hand right by your side.

So wherever you may go or be,

in land or loss, in joy or plea,

remember this with certainty:

He is with you … endlessly.

“وَهُوَ مَعَكُمْ أَيْنَمَا كُنتُمْ”

With hardship comes ease, with hardship comes ease,

A promise from God that softens the squeeze.

Not after the fall, not once it has passed,

But inside the moment that feels too vast.

With hardship comes ease, when nights stretch long,

When prayers feel weak and the heart feels wrong.

When doors stay closed and the path feels tight,

And hope flickers low in the quiet night.

With hardship comes ease, though tears may fall,

Not a single one wasted.. He counts them all.

What feels like an ending, a loss, a defeat,

Is the soil where tomorrow prepares its feet.

With hardship comes ease, when strength feels gone,

When you wake each day and still carry on.

You think you are buried, forgotten, unseen,

But roots grow deepest where light has not been.

With hardship comes ease, say it slow, say it true,

When the world feels heavy and so do you.

Thee has spoken, His word is enough,

No hardship outlasts the mercy of Al-Lutf.

With hardship comes ease, with hardship comes ease,

Hold tight to the promise, let your heart breathe.

﴿ فَإِنَّ مَعَ الْعُسْرِ يُسْرًا ۝ إِنَّ مَعَ الْعُسْرِ يُسْرًا ﴾