By Amatu Rahman

Some days,
patience feels noble.

Other days,
it feels like standing in the same place
while everyone else is moving.

It is smiling
when your heart has questions
your tongue refuses to ask.

It is folding disappointment
like a prayer mat,
then returning to your Lord
with hands that are still open.

I used to think sabr
meant waiting.

Now I think
it is trusting.

Trusting that the delay
is not neglect.

That closed doors
are not always rejection.

That the silence
is not the absence of Allah,
but sometimes
the place where He teaches the loudest lessons.

Sabr is strange.

It hurts,
yet it heals.

It empties you,
yet somehow
makes room for something better.

Perhaps that is why
the reward for patience
was never fully described.

Some things
cannot be explained
to a heart
that has not waited.

So I wait.

Not because I have all the answers.

But because I know the One
who does.

And for now,
that is enough.