It is only a tiny rosebud,
A flower of God's design,
But I can't unfold the petals,
With these clumsy hands of mine.

Written by Shaykh Hamza Yusuf, dedicated to Shaykh al-Yaqoubi

The fruits of Syria are universally known
Great blessings are tasted for all that is grown.
You came to these shores as a fertile feast
For all to enjoy, both greatest and least.

Should you not gain your wants, my soul, then be not grieved;
But hasten to that banquet which your Lord's bequeathed.

And when a thing for which you ask is slow to come,
Then know that often through delay are gifts received.

By the gate of your generosity stands a sinner, who is mad with love,
O best of mankind in radiance of face and countenance!
Through you he seeks a means , hoping for Allah?s forgiveness of slips;
from fear of Him, his eyelid is wet with pouring tears.

We are the honorable women of Islam!
We don't sell our bodies for people to sell their products;
You won't find us advertising for stuff like new trucks.
We don't dress up on the streets as if were some sort of merchandise,
Keep your dirty hands to yourself, or, with Allah, you will pay the price.

Shaykh Hamza Yusuf on the coming of the

Prophet Salallahu alahi wasalam.

I envy the sand that met his feet

I?m jealous of honey he tasted sweet

Of birds that hovered above his head

Of spiders who spun their sacred web,

Momina Writes:

Imagine yourself after you pass away.

Imagine your grave through night and through day.

Wishing that you did not do as they say.

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