When you ask me to make dua for you
I smile and say, of course
but deep down my heart sinks
because in my head I think
the duas I make for myself didn’t get approved
so what makes you think
that through me, yours will?
The sound of my heart thumping reverberates in my ears. All I can hear is the thud—banging against my ribs like a drum.
The air is so humid that I can barely breathe. Sweat pours down my body like a river down a…
