be the judge of what is true,

 

Something still sits uneasy in my chest,
A quiet question I cannot quite rest.
Strange, isn’t it—something feels misaligned,
A moment that lingers inside my mind.

She stood there speaking, leading the way,
Yet when questions came, he chose what to say.
A curious shift, a subtle exchange,
Not wrong perhaps, but quietly strange.

Wasn’t it meant to be done alone?
Each voice accountable, each effort its own.
But I pause, and breathe, and let it be—
Not everything is mine to see.

Let God be the judge of what is true,
Of what is hidden, of what they do.
As for me, I will guard my part,
And tend to the soil within my heart.

I will choose kindness, I will stay right,
Even when things don’t feel quite light.
Bismillah, I begin again—
With faith as strength, and God as my friend.