Making a Statement Since 2013
Al-
I D
لا
E
نايب
N
Bayyan
T I T Y
Mehreen Ali
Human
Muslim
Yemeni
Arab
Pakistani Indian
I D E N Studious
Alive
Passion
Ambition
Humanity
Consistent
Diligent
Warrior Overthinker
Alone Fear
Frustrated
Delusion
Scared Lost
Perfection Undefined
Happy Kind
Critical Thinking
Self-Awareness
T I T Y Experienced
You’re perfect in that way that I’ll accept you all the same the love i cant explain is such a feeling such a pain and my heart has been dealt so many cards in so many games and im tired of all the stress that surrounds your very name its confusing when im winning im still losing and its amusing how much i care you’re still assuming you have control it takes a toll and you’re accusing me of love and you’re abusing my very trust in your judgement refusing to open up or even budge and i cant do this is what logic yells when emotion has taken the wheel of my soul i just have one wish to love and be loved by you or anyone that will make me whole and i chose you for myself before anyone else could but how do i know you wont hurt me like anyone else would its a viscious cycle of feelings and hormones and dealing with trusting you undertones of lusting you overgrown bluffing you protecting my mind from nothing new just teenage fever jungle views repeat replay nothing to lose
except my fuse im blown out of proportion when im feeling such a way that separates me from people that most likely i would choose to stay i seem distant and inconsistent with no commitment to anyone except myself and i seem judgmental textbook and temperamental making social media my online skectchbook and i seem to dwell alot on the past depressions or life long lessons that i have yet to quell its a war in my mind between guns and roses thorns and lotuses has nobody noticed that its something different about the girl where is her focus its lost in translation my minds a plantation where what im lacking does the most work and self righteousness has been coerced to negate my very weaknesses capitalize the grievances Put in bold the premises of something not worth mentioning so confusing am i to a person without intuition i switch up like autocorrect when what i mean isn’t what is written im so bad with words that i keep most of mines hidden deep inside you say im quiet Poet: Madinah Muhammad
i say im gifted i wrote a while back i feel like they hear but never are listening when really im always here but never signaling a sign that says look both ways before crossing me or something along the lines of she is really loud when she doesnt speak when did the cat catch my tongue maybe i was sleep when did i become so numb and quiet they say talk is cheap but you know me so well even if you say you dont and I’ve poured out my entire heart even when you said you won’t so i guess the question lies where the lies end im less quiet and more observant like a god send but modest enough and honest enough full of surprises that i keep inside when im tired of trying and no im not done im never done expressing my emotions and my feelings in words i keep neglecting my talents my voice my gifts i could be sharing but ive shared too much already to the wrong people in the wrong settings its fear of being open judgment is inevitable and its clear that im not hopeless im just more impressionable theres tatters and tears in my heart
by who it is questionable i inflict my own pain by falling below my preset pedestal yes, i know my worth but sometimes i dont feel worthy and yes, for what its worth I’ve been given so much mercy i thank Allah everyday for the life he has set out for me so if you catch my random prayers no questions asked just leave me lonely solitude is ease my mind deserves some silence boldly am i asking for some love just at a distance because im mostly lacking much which is unspoken because who speaks of what they lack I’ve been doing this for years its not my first time you can relax naturally people seek others approval but actually i dont care because others words are not that useful im always listening i see the lies i hear the truthful and it is sickening you receive more hate when you are youthful yes, i have a lot to say because i do not say alot i just play a lot make you think you know me so i dont have to display a lot but here’s a peer into my heart i have no regrets no hesitation usually i’d fret but now im giving you this presentation Art: Huma Ghauri
Salaam Khater
Raghba Everything I desire is out in the open My eyes are swollen What can I ask from you when you know my heart is broken I had heard of a fragrance and got drawn towards it The truth became clear when your path appeared That fragrance was inside me It was always so unclear Breaking and rotting is something I know well But the joy of praying is embedded in my cells Let me stay in sujood and I promise I’ll always stay here If you reject me now then how will I get anywhere I was arrogant and demanded my desires I tried so hard to achieve all my dreams before they expired Then you appeared My eyes unable to weep Then I bowed my head I bowed my head and attained everything I had ever desired Sufyaan Kalota
Reach Forward To Accomplish Your Dreams Iqra Ahmed
Reach Back To Appreciate Memories
Saba Ali
~P CRF PR E S E NT S~ “A Broken City She Used to Roam” She can’t wait to go home She’s been Playing with her friends all day. She’s not even fully grown. Never listens to what her parents say. But not every place is like yours and not everyone can just go home She can’t run from the war enter does she deserve this? Does she deserve this?
Mexicano Musulmán Being a Mexican Muslim is simple. Thinking of when I was little, my parents’ eyes twinkle. I would run into my room, kneel and ask God for forgiveness when I would get in trouble.
In a broken city that she used to roam With a whole lot of people that are calling it home And the whole word watching with a heart of stone She’s a fighter. She will rise up Walls that crumble War and thunder Ashy skies that bleed Buildings tumble Run for cover Why can’t they just leave
Que Dios te bendiga, عم ةمالسلا Solo Dios sabe, ملعا هللا And La paz este contigo, مكيلع مالسلا But, being the ONLY Mexican Muslim in my family, that is what is difficult. The pain of knowing my family’s knowledge stops at Isa (as), inexplicable.
Now, my parents see me run into my room, place my head on the ground and ask هللاfor Making suhoor for one is not demanding for my body but for guidance in my struggle. my heart is taxing. My culture does not clash with Forget about that, I know that most of this is trivial and immy religion, it strengthens it. material. Dios mío has become يبر I am actually worried that I am Ay Dios, هللا اي the only one that opens up that Ojala, هللا ءاش نا Spanish Quran at home. Gracias a Dios, هلل دمحلا
Rafay Siddiq
That every athan I give will never reach them and I will continue to pray alone. Accepting that I can be an outstanding Muslim but that only هللاcan guide them, that is my real test. هللاowes me nothing but I have one small request. It is nothing grand, but I pray that my family and I meet Him with our book in our right hand. And most importantly, may هللاturn their en el nombre del Padre, del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo into: دهشا دهشاو هللا الا هلا ال نا هللا لوسر دمحم نا Christopher Nevarez Azdar
Yo u ’ r e A
Full Of Huma Ghauri
S K Y
STARS
Salaam Khater
Khanan Chaudhry
You Don’t Have To Be Indian Or Pakistani To Help Kashmir; You Just Have To Be Human
Khanan Chaudhry
W H E R E
IDENTITY MEETS PA I N Salaam Khater
The Lines of My Thumbprint
Struggle
Ink pad; press. Blue ink covers my thumb Paper, press down. In the middle of a hurricane The eye; me. Round and round, life revolves. Eyes open; Mom. Family. And at the end Eyes close; my Lord. Religion. A ring for my passions; The workings of the brain, Law, fight, help, serve. Rings for my hobbies; To read the words in a book A line of a poem Music flows in circles Cultural pride all around Friends, and loved ones Somewhere; a name Daughter of Khan Warrior, queen. Every thumb has a print Every print has a story This story not, but an identity.
It’s easy to check in the boxes. Female. Asian. Muslim. It’s easy to identify the relationships you have, and what they make you. Student. Daughter. Friend. Muslim. But who we are cannot be summed up in one word, and will not stay the same forever. Our actions will not always match the person we believe ourselves to be, and will not always match the expectations people hold for us. The question is, “Walho are you?” And what makes you, you? But how do you answer that, when you’re struggling to fit the roles already set for you by society? How can I say I’m a daughter, when I know the bags underneath my parents’ eyes are not designer, but is the pain I’ve caused over the years? How can I say I’m a student, when the desire to know all the
Farisa Khan
latest gossip wins over the desire to seek knowledge ? How can I say I’m Muslim, when I struggle to pray five times a day? When my actions can be the complete opposite of what I should be doing? And that is when I realized, who I am, and who we all really are, are not the titles we hold, but the journey we go through to get there. My identity is my struggle. My struggle to be a focused student My struggle to be a good daughter My struggle to be a good friend And my struggle to be a righteous, practicing Muslim. My identity is who I’m striving to be, and not who I currently am. I pray to Allah SWT that we all go through a safe, easy, and blissful journey and truly become who we strive to be. Nabeeha Bakhrani
My Heart heard my Ego All I can hear is this soft, beautiful voice in my head.. right beside the violate beat of my heart The thuds deafening, as if there is a thunderstorm lodged in my chest. In between each roaring beat is a familiar voice whispering, almost like a whimper. I think to myself, I’ve heard her before. a stranger with such a comforting, raspy tone. I don’t know what to listen to. She goes on about my past And my Intentions and discipline Are they pure? She says my delusion of improvement has become nothing but comfort food for my ego. Why do I feed it
knowing my Creator won’t let me in with the slightest trace? Ya Rabb help me out of this cycle. My soul is in fear of my Lord and His punishment. My body has no tears left to cry, so it trembles from the stress that it created. It builds Hands shaking, raising to the sky, I whisper “Ya Allah.. forgive me. for my transgressions I have wronged myself.”
Anonymous
What Strikes the Oyster Shell Doesn’t Damage the Pearl
Salaam Khater
President, Nabeeha Bakhrani Vice President, Farisa Khan Treasurer, Arooj Imran Technology Director, Khanan Chaudhry Social Media Chair, Unzila Manzoor Creative Director, Hibah Hassan
Al-Bayyan has served the UIC Muslim community for over 10 years by giving Muslim students a platform to express themselves. The publication, along with Al-Bayyan’s annual live showcase, have allowed a means for Muslim students to be honest, authentic, and true to themselves. From this effort has submerged an incredibly beautiful and diverse amount of artwork. Students have shared their passion through poetry, reflections, singing, storytelling, spoken word, comedy acts and more. In whatever way it may be, Al-Bayyan is an invitation for all forms of self-expression.
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