Loving for His sake


*Dedicated to every single person that I love for the sake of Allah… and a special dedication to Nadimah for bringing this topic to my mind to begin with.


Last Friday, something wonderful happened. It was something I knew about all along but was in a hazy blur somewhere in the back of my mind, and it needed a specific incident to bring it out again and bring me the immense pleasure that it did.

Last Friday, I was having a bad day. Classes were fine and people were nice, but I was tired and stressed and effortlessly let some negative thoughts get the better of me that morning. I regrettably found myself feeling ungrateful and I decided, around noon, that I needed a nap to maybe wash it all away.

I found a nice comfy couch in the Club’s Lounge of SSMU, placed my backpack on my lap, and put my head to sleep.

It was a much needed 40-minute nap, and I woke up feeling refreshed and slightly foolish for my attitude beforehand. I then noticed that there was a paper carefully tucked under an elastic of my school bag. What? I thought in surprise. When do I receive letters this way?

I opened it up… and read:


…………… 0___O ………..  << (yes, that was my reaction. I was just stunned, and felt immense guilt to receive such a gift at a time I knew I deserved nothing less than to fall down the stairs.)

There was no name on it. It was anonymous. The only clue I could fathom from the note was that I’d known this person for “a few years”. But who did I know for a few years at McGill? Most people who fit that criteria had graduated, moved away, or we simply lost touch. I decided to expand my possibilities and interpret “few years” as “2 years or more”.

I took out my cell phone, and texted everyone I believed might have been the letter-author. I further Facebook-inboxed another 5 likely McGillians and emailed yet another 10.

I contacted around 30 people in total. And every single one of them replied in the negative.

To this day the kind soul who made my day and sent me on a rollercoaster of emotions (guilt at my emotions earlier and overwhelming gratitude to God) remains a mystery. And I’ve come to the conclusion, six days later, that if she really wanted to be known, she would’ve simply put her name on it.

To the sweet soul who brightened my day with your impulsive act of ripping a page from your notebook to scribble me a note: Thank you. I don’t know who you are, but you must be someone I know, and you must be someone I love for the sake of Allah.

My feelings of happiness did not simply stem from the letter itself– and it wasn’t even from the first paragraph that was complimenting me. It was the second paragraph that made me tear up:

Aya, Allah is with you. He will always be. Trust in Him, only. Have faith in Him, only. Do everything for Him, only. You are not like anyone, not less than anyone, and not more than anyone.

To me, this paragraph summarizes exactly what a friend for Allah’s sake represents. A sincere friend is she/he who aims to bring you closer to God and reminds you of Him, who is reminded of Him by you as well, who boosts you up but still keeps you grounded by reminding you that you are not above anyone else, just as you are not beneath.

True friendship (and ultimately, true love) is not about merely self-validating the other, but also keeping her/him on the path of His remembrance, keeping things in perspective, and giving feedback in the gentlest manner possible. (It’s interesting to note that the closest of people to me are generally those who have told me at one point I was doing something wrong, and steered me back to the right.)

So why did this letter make my day?

It wasn’t the content of it (though it indeed did seem to have fallen from the sky when I most needed it.) It was the fact that I contacted around 30 people whom I thought might be the do-ers of such a blessed deed.

Those were just the people I’ve known for 2+ years, and current students at McGill. I did not take consideration of those outside McGill, or people I’ve just met this year, or extended family…

But to think that I assumed that 30 people (at least!) were possible of such a deed reminded me that they have probably given me precious reminders in the past that made it possible for me to assume they might do so again (only anonymously). It reminded me that I am truly blessed with the most beautiful of friends– friends I can genuinely say I love for the sake of Allah.

White it still matters to me who wrote the letter, what matters more is that I have so many people in my life who could’ve (and DO!) give me the same reminders all the time.

I don’t deserve them of course… but God knows I love them for His sake!

I would like to conclude with a nice quote I read off a website:

“Loving for the sake of Allah means one loves an individual simply because of the connection he holds with Allah; either because he worships Allah and is doing something to further the deen of Allah, or, even more praiseworthy, merely because he is from the creation of Allah. There is no worldly motive behind this love such as a favour done by him, and is not subject to any fluctuation. As such, it is not increased by the character and kindness of the one loved and not decreased by his shortcomings.” (Ibn Allan, Dalil al-Falihin 2/240)



And Allah knows best.


How To Write A Wonderful Arabic Poem

letters watercolor

*Dedicated to… oh Lord, there’s so many people I dedicate this to. I’m afraid I’m gonna leave someone out… look, you know who you are! 


If you are coming here for tips on how to write extravagant Arabic poetry, sorry to get your hopes up. I am actually the one in dire need of this. 

I am writing this blog post as a reminder of what I had promised myself to do, and for the past 2 months, have not even begun. I did not have many New Year resolutions this year, particularly because I want to be renewing my intentions every day– but I did create for myself one challenge for 2013– namely, to write a decent Arabic poem. (And I’m not talking about one of those you-rock-my-world poems that I write for my mom once a while and she cherishes them despite the plentiful problematic errors in there– I’m talking depth and eloquence that even an authentic Arabic speaker can appreciate.)

Arabic is my first language. I can read, speak and write in it, but I don’t get creative with it… which is a shame because there’s something exquisitely divine about the language I have yet to hear in any other. I experiment with the letters in art– I have lately been trying to include Arabic letters in my paintings and I try to do my own (oversimplified but original) attempts at calligraphy whenever I can. But this is visual; I have never played with the words with the intention of having them read. There’s a harmony and purity of the Arabic language that simply flows like music to the ears and, if words can be tasted, honey to the tongue when they are recited. Yet I don’t play with such treasured words, or dive deep into the ocean they create, because let’s be honest– I don’t have experience in Arabic writing besides  jotting down brief notes at an Islamic lecture, and maybe an email here and there to my relatives. You see, I’d much rather stick in my comfort bubble of the English language, something I find intriguing but not necessarily challenging, than feel like the fool I know I am in my own native one.

Yet I don’t want it to be that way.

  • For an English poem to make an impact on me, it needs to rhyme, to have rhythm, to be meaningful in content.
  • But in Arabic, it just sounds so good even before you understand it all!

And once you do, you marvel at how such simple concepts can sound so exquisite in Arabic.

So in December 2012, I thought of a plan: a plan to execute in 2013. A plan that is quite simple to follow, and yet I haven’t begun carrying it through yet. Maybe if I write the plan here, I’ll feel ashamed of myself and get started on it already…


How to Write A Wonderful Poem In Arabic (or any other language!)

and far away
1) Ask friends/ cousins to send you recommendations of very nice poems in Arabic. Ask people who you think have good taste, so that you don’t discriminate and filter– just copy paste them all into a nice neat Google doc. Compile at least 10 poems. (CHECK!)

2) Print the document out and create it into a booklet. (1 side for 1 poem, the other side blank) (CHECK!)

3) Commit a portion of every day, even if twenty minutes, to doing the following:
-Flip to a poem. Make sure you have an Arabic-English dictionary nearby for the harder words.
-Every time you come across a word you’re unsure of (there will be lots especially if you’re reading older poetry), write it down on the blank side of the page, look it up, and write down the translation. Read the verse again until it makes perfect sense.
-Do this for every verse.
*The goal isn’t to read and master an entire book of poetry a day, it is simply to read Arabic in a different context than the one you’re familiar in, and to still understand it. Quality over quantity.

4) Make a note of what you like about the poems you like (You don’t have to love them all). But for the ones you do… What was it that mesmerized you? The style, the tone, the words, the topic? Reflect on them, keep these all in mind, they will come in handy.

5) Finally, perhaps two months of this consistency, when you can read something without much difficulty, think of a topic that’s on your mind, and write a very rough draft of it in Arabic. Try your best, when possible, to use the words you had to once upon a time look up because they were alien to you. Keep #4 in mind as you explore a style that is unique to you, don’t feel constrained by boundaries that only exist in your head.

6) Get a trusted one to read it over (or a group of sincere individuals). It can be anyone– basically, someone that won’t think you’re completely messed up because your grammar/spelling is horrendous. 🙂

7) Do a neat copy of the poem after editing. Post it up (if you think it’s worth sharing).


Et voila, you have become an Arabic poet!


*As a form of self-congratulation, share it on a very special day of the year, one you will always remember. (April.6 works as an ideal date in my case.)

(Though I seriously doubt I’ll have anything worthy to share before 2040 or something. But hey– A girl can dream, right?)




*This is such an easy and fun topic to play with, that I thought I might as well play with it before getting back to physical reality.




Colorful and enchanting and mesmerizing so
They capture that one moment and make it seem slow
Or maybe time just freezes and maybe that is true
Because for that one moment your heart stops beating, too–



Plentiful and bountiful and stubbornly playful so
They tickle you and make you cringe and make you think ‘oh no!’
For you don’t want to laugh or giggle well against your will
And you’d rather get this over with than have it remain still.



Mischievous and rebellious and they don’t care so
They start off as a few but then exponentially grow
The more you try to get away, the more persistent they become
Until eventually you and they are inevitably one.



Charming to look at, their beauty almost makes them glow
But that’s when you’re the audience and they are putting on the show
Yet when the actor and audience become one and the same
The rules get real complicated in this dynamically confusing game.



Normally known as butterflies
But not the ones in the skies
You like butterflies, oh yes you do–
But not when their wings beat inside of you!





Sky Fall – A Reminder

Every time a blanket of helplessness & hopelessness covers me spontaneously (probably due to stress and lack of sleep for consecutive nights on end), I find great comfort in these simple yet seemingly magical words by Dr. A’id al-Qarni from the book Don’t Be Sad:

“The One who is protecting your faith is the One Who is preventing the sky from falling to the earth.”


You can’t help but feel a little ridiculous after that… I mean, what are you worried about? No matter how overwhelmed you may feel, the sky remains up there. The All-Powerful is making sure that the sky will remain up and firm in its purpose.

So why doubt for a moment He will let you fall or let you fail in yours?

-Just a much-needed reminder for myself and anyone who might find benefit in this. It’s easier to forget than remember sometimes.

الحمد الله


Yes, I Want To Teach Teenagers

*Dedicated to all my teacher friends, especially high school ones.

Whenever I am asked what I’m studying at McGill, I usually take a deep breath to prepare to say:

“It’s called a Concurrent BSc/BEd program, which is a double bachelor 4.5-year program that gives you a bachelor in science (major concentration chemistry, minor concentration physics) and a bachelor degree in education.”

This is often met with stunned, confused silence. I lamely add the magical comprehensive sentence, “Basically, I’ll be a high school science teacher.”

“OHHH!”  Impressed nods and raise of eyebrows ensue.

It makes sense all of a sudden. Then the predictable question (almost) always comes up:

“But why would you want to teach teenagers? Wouldn’t it be nicer to teach CEGEP level instead?”

My usual reaction is a grin, a shrug, and I reply, “I like challenging myself.”

But now, jokes aside, let us


This question comes to me again & again, again & again, again & again. This question has practically exasperated me. I’ve been ignoring it and leaving it to the side for a while, but now that I am in my last semester, the sudden realization of what I’ll be doing come September (if I get a job inshaAllah) is striking clear to me now, and I have to come to terms with it:

I, Miss Salah, will be teaching teenagers.

And you know what? That’s exactly who I want to be dealing with.

The typical notifications come up: “But they’ve got so much attitude, but they hate school, but they’ll give you so much trouble, but they don’t take anything seriously, but they’re so immature, but they’re so rebellious–

Yeah, you know WHAT:

It’s precisely because teenagers are the outcasts of society that I want to work with them.
It’s precisely because no one takes them seriously that I think they’re worth listening to.
It’s precisely because they hate school that I want to work in one.
It’s precisely because they’re seen as over-aged kids, hence immature, that I want to help them grow as people.

The giving-me-trouble problem is not troubling to me at all, because it will merely teach me patience and a good character trait called 7ilm if I succeed in the ta7allum phase. [“الحلم بالتحلم”]

ImageNow I know people mean well when they recommend I teach college or university; they only want what’s most comfortable and beneficial for me, and I appreciate that. But I need to remind myself here that life isn’t about doing the easier thing, it’s about doing the right thing, what is more in need. I have to remind myself why I prefer dealing in the more challenging environment of high schools, because sometimes I start doubting if I’m actually setting out to do what I’m supposed to do…

So Aya, you like teaching. How about you do a Masters right away, and start applying at CEGEP? You’ll be teaching alright, but with added bonuses: higher pay, and plus the students are much more committed, mature, they have a better sense of direction for their lives, they’ll study harder on their own–

Oh, hold it there, misguided conscience! You’re telling me that the purpose of my life is to help already-dedicated people enhance in their growth? That is truly a noble feat, I must say, it really is. (And who would say no to extra money?)

But I think– it’s just a hunch I have– that I’m meant to accomplish more than that.


  • What if my calling, as I see it, is to help unmotivated people find their way?

What if all it took is that one teacher who believed in your abilities, who saw something in you that no one else did, that made all the difference between a student seeking what he’s passionate in even though he’s deemed  ‘not good enough’, and pursuing a career that he would hate but seemed the only option for his low grades?

I don’t plan to simply teach content, I want to teach them how to teach themselves. I don’t want to simply raise awareness about the world, but I want them to learn self-awareness/ self-knowledge. {For instance: who says you can’t teach something like 7 Habits of Highly Effective People even in a chemistry class? Are potential future scientists not still people that want to be effective?}

  • What if my role as a teacher is not simply to impart/teach knowledge, but to awaken the love for learning?

It is unfortunate that rigid schooling systems force teachers to teach certain content, some of it not even relevant, with horrible pressures for final exams that the educators don’t even write, but the state does… Yet what if all it took was a bit of creativity in teaching the material, a bit more involvement on the part of the students, a different way of assessment to decrease stress levels, less homework at home and more dynamic learning during the day, to make the difference between rote memorization and active self-learning?

  • What if I’m supposed to not control people, but to teach them how to control themselves?

What if a teacher’s main concern was not classroom discipline, and focusing on how to shut up the students the quickest way, but rather he/she instilled the notion of respect and freedom of expression in the classroom so that it could be a community of some sort, rather than a prison?

  • What if I make my main objective in dealing with difficult cases a cause to grow in ta7allum, rather than using it as an excuse to avoid teenagers altogether?

In one of shaykh Rateb el-Nabulsy’s lectures about one of Allah’s names (Al-Haleem), he says that to grow as a person in patience, wisdom and tolerance (don’t know how to properly translate & define al-“7ilm”) one must be prepared to deal with difficult people in a beautiful manner. His exact words were:

“الإمنيح مو عاوزك؛ بطولتك مو مع الإمنيح”

So in all cases, whether I’m working with ideal perfect students, or unwilling disruptive ones, I now know why I’m supposed to work with teenagers.


Alright, I’ll be honest: for all my grand words,

I have NO IDEA what it takes to be a great teacher.

I have inklings, and notions, and brilliant descriptions of what a great teacher would look like, but I have no concrete idea on how to go about becoming one. Knowing and being are two different things.

The rock that I am currently leaning against is my faith in God, my constant renewal of having good intention always, and hopefully, with His grace, I might (just might!) make a small little difference in even one person’s life, and this person can hopefully make an enormous difference in many others’, even if I’m not alive to witness it…

“I know I am part of a story that starts long before I can remember and continues long beyond when anyone will remember me. I sense that I am alive at a time of important change, and I feel a responsibility to make sure that the change comes out well. I plant my acorns knowing that I will never live to harvest the oaks. I have hope for the future.”

(W. Daniel Hillis)


Most teachers will typically say they choose their profession because they simply love teaching, but that isn’t all for me. (I can technically create lesson plans and then teach to an empty room, that is no problem.)  When I want to describe how enriching and rejuvenating a long exhausting day was, it is hard to explain. It isn’t really the perfectly executed lesson plan that hits the jackpot– nor is it the paycheck, which isn’t much to go ballistic over– it’s hard to describe, but there’s something about connecting to different hearts and minds that opens my own heart and mind.

Because in all blunt reality, at the end of the day, no matter how complex they may appear to be, that’s what teenagers are– individual persons, each with a unique heart and mind, just like you and I.

They are not a bunch of nuisances in society that fit neither in the children category because they are too old, and neither in the adult world, because they are “too young”.

The dilemma of teenagers, in my perspective, is that they are not taken seriously enough,

are not given useful roles in society,

are not deemed worthy of anyone’s time–

Well, they are going to be worthy of mine.

May God make it easy for me, and easy for anyone who embarks on this great journey. (Amen!)


And God knows best.


Days, Nights & Hearts

*Dedicated to Rwan, who is the sister that shares a room with me and is gracious & kind enough to never mind it when I put the lights on while she is still asleep.

*Inspired by surat Al-Hadeed.

what we soil

Translation: “He merges Night into Day, and He merges Day into Night; and He has full knowledge of the secrets of (all) hearts.”

Normally when I come across that exquisitely divine verse, my mind immediately begins to visualize

a beautiful horizon,

artistically colorful skies while the sun sets or rises,

the stunning glory of His creation–


One can’t help but be in awe of such Majesty!

But on a smaller scale– it made me think of something else today. Something so simple, so mundane, so not-sophisticated-and-wondrous, that I am astounded and even slightly ashamed why it only occurred to me until now. (Yeah, I know you’re hanging there in suspense right now, so I’ll be a little more explicit.)

OK, let’s pause for a moment, and stop visualizing sunsets and skies for a moment.

Let’s consider vocabulary.

هو يولج: “Allah merges“… MERGES. What does it mean to merge something into another?

According to dictionary.com:

I have never properly considered the blessings of the day merging into the night. But imagine this: imagine during nighttime, the sky is black. And then without warning, come dawn, just like a light switch, your room is flooded with bright sunshine. The result will be you waking up every morning dazed, annoyed, blinded temporarily and unable to do anything but squint, and last but not least, you will be wondering if you’re still asleep and this is part of a dream, or you’ll wake up totally confused wondering what your name is, where you are or who you are–

BASICALLY, sort of like this, to summarize it:

Something so simple, just thinking about how you wake up, and how Compassionate God is to allow us to gradually, slowly and peacefully get out of bed, escapes our minds often. Sure, most of us are too lazy and tired in the morning to appreciate waking up from our sweet dreams, but at least we’re not crashing into walls because our eyes simply can’t open and function.

But that’s not all. (I hope you didn’t think I was gonna end this post with a jungle man from Jumanji.)


The ending of the ayah is such a comfort, that I prefer to think of it as the very essence of bliss…

“… and He has full knowledge of the secrets of (all) hearts.”

I think the basic need of every human being is to be loved, but you can’t love someone you don’t know. No matter who you meet that tells you they love you, you might always have this seed of doubt in you that tells you: but they don’t know EVERYTHING about me. If they knew about X, Y or Z, would they still like me as much? So in reality, you probably wouldn’t want someone knowing everything about you. We all have a certain degree of ugliness in us, let’s be completely honest– otherwise there would be no need for inner-self jihad as a lifelong journey.

But supposing you knew someone, who did know even the ugly details of you, and still loved you all the same. There would never be anything that can replace the value of such a relationship.

Well, God is that some (and only) One. He has the full knowledge of what is in your heart, and still loves you enough to welcome you again and again, every time you forget and then remember, every time you sin and then repent, every time you reject and then accept…

Basically, every time you stray and get lost, His door is always open for you to come back home.


~And Allah knows best.


A Message In Motion: ﷺ

*I believe one of the biggest sources of ease referred to in the following verse is none other than the Prophet Muhammed himself. “Allah intends for you ease, and He does not want to make things difficult for you” (2:185 Quran).

ImageOnce upon a time, in the far desert of Arabia,

there lived a people that very much couldn’t be labelled as ‘enlightened’. Like every nation of people that had strayed from the truth, they lived by their own superstitions and rules, to the point that girls were considered shameful enough to be buried alive. It was a nation of  ignorance and dangerous arrogance; no one could find the meaning of life, all were lost in their own oppression. That is, until the Prophet Mohammad embraced his calling and surfaced with the timeless message of Islam… that there was only one God, and he, Mohammad, was Allah’s final Prophet. Islam was a whole new way of  life, a religion that refused any harmful teachings, that brightened up any path and that welcomed any person into it, regardless of the deeds of  the past.


Suddenly there was a meaning of life; there was hope for the future;

“Verily man is in loss, except such as have faith, and do righteous deeds, and join together in the mutual enjoining of truth, and of patience and constancy” (103:2-3 Quran).

       We must ask ourselves, who is this Prophet Mohammad (peace be upon him), that managed to spread the message of Islam from the desert of Arabia to every other continent? What was his personality like in order to attract all of his followers? (No blog post, or two, not one book, nor 10, nor an entire library can do justice to him!) He was the brightest of lights, the noblest of men, a perfectly wonderful walking Quran, the highest standard of being anyone can ever hope to acquire. And yet, despite the fact we can never attain his level of superiority, the least we can do is try. We can get close to certain characteristics and feel the blessings of living in simplicity & humility. And God willing, inshaAllah, with His mercy and compassion,

we will one day meet the Prophet and he will smile at us, a smile so serene and genuine because he knows you tried your best to manifest your love for him into actions, even if you failed multiple infinity times.

Now, here I am going to attempt to write, in a few clumsy words, one reason why I love the last & final beloved Prophet– but some things are best expressed  in silence because words will not explain an ounce of it. Nonetheless, I will try… and I will fail, without a doubt… but if it brings a smile to his face at my feeble efforts, it will be well worth the failure.


The biggest blessing that has made the world easier to live in, to prosper and bring real meaning, is Islam. But Islam is not a word that fell from the heavens with no guidance and clear instruction. The Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, did not simply convey a message, but he was the message in motion.

I am going to focus on one tiny statement that is surprisingly (and perhaps alarmingly) critical & necessary to our well-being, made up of just two words (in Arabic)


We say ‘alhamdulileh’ a million times during the day, during prayer, as a response to ‘how are you’, maybe absent-mindedly said, etc. It means ‘all praise is due to God.’ But how much do we mean it? Has the meaning of it sunk in deeper than on the tips of our tongue? It is so thrillingly easy to say ‘alhamdulileh!’ when life is smooth, and everything is going exactly as you want it to. It becomes always “alhamdulileh! (Yes, with the exclamation mark at the end.)

Which is fantastic, of course, because indeed, all good things do come from Him!

But we know that gratitude to God should be at all times, the good and the “bad”, and we say it, too, all of us– but how often do we mean it? I mean, when you’re going through something rough, and someone asks you how’s life, you DO say ‘alhamdulileh.’ But deep down, are you really praising God with all your heart for the positive side of things– for blessing you with life, a beating heart, a sight-seeing pair of eyes, a nose that smells, ears that hear, just to name a few priceless treasures–

deep down, are you reminding yourself of His gifts even as you hurt?

(Don’t answer this to anyone, it’s no one’s business. Just think of it for yourself.)

ImageThe following passage from ‘Purification of The Heart’ by Hamza Yusuf really struck me… because although we hear of the Prophet’s trials and sufferings scattered here and there and everywhere,  to see a few of them condensed in one paragraph was mind-staggering, to say the least:

“It is important to look at the life of the Prophet PBUH and know that no one faced greater tribulation. The Prophet lived to see all of his children buried, except for Fatima. How many people experience that in their lifetime? Out of six children, he saw five of them perish. His father died before his birth. His mother died when he was just a boy. His guardian grandfather then died. When he received his calling, he saw his people turn against him with vehemence and brutality. People who had once honored him now slandered him, calling him a madman, liar, and sorcerer. They stalked him and threw stones at him until he bled. They boycotted him and composed stinging invectives against him. He lost his closest friends and relatives, like Hamza, who was killed on the battlefield. His beloved wife Khadija after 25 years of blissful marriage died during the Prophet’s most difficult moment. Abu Talib, his protecting uncle, also died. The Prophet PBUH was the target of 13 assassination attempts. How many people have faced all of that? Not once in a single hadith is there a complaint from him—except when beseeching his Lord.” 

And yet, while he went through all that (and his companions suffered similar trials)– while he went through that, and we self-absorb in our own lives making mountains out of moles– he still calls out “Ummati, ummati.”

On the Day when no one will consider save himself, he will be interceding for us.

Let me emphasize in case I am not being clear: before he, your father, and she, your mother, were born– before you or I or the idea of us ever existed–  hundreds & hundreds of years ago, there was a man who loved you for His sake already. He did not merely say it, but acted on it. He did not wait for you to love him, he took the first move and showed us what unconditional love looks like.

Come, let’s be sensible here:

Is there really any explanation needed for why a Muslim cannot be considered a true believer until he loves the Prophet more than himself?

The Prophet Mohammad (pbuh) was not just any man who did a few good deeds and died. He isn’t as dead as you might think.

WELL… Let me clarify that.

He may be dead in body, but his spirit continues to live on in the heart of every practicing Muslim, the one who has submitted to God in mind, body & soul.

As long as Islam is being practiced through the ways he has taught us- as long as the real Islam lives…

So will the Prophet Mohammad, peace be upon him. ~

صلى الله عليه وسلم