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I’m Modassir, or

Mubasshir. second

name Khan

I'm a Muslim who lost my previous life at Madrasa (Islamic school) to madness uncontrolled and shattering. I'm not sure what happened, but I suffered a head injury, and severe and sudden headaches used to make me lie down, hoping it passed. Then, I attacked my father and brothers. My father caused me childhood trauma with his dominance and territorial mentality he enacted on all 9 of us physically and verbally growing up (something horrific he did, or attempted at least). I remember constant peace as a student of knowledge before the injury I thought nothing of, even forgetting it so quickly after the fall. I was jogging home with a fellow student. Halfway down the 5-mile road, I slipped and hit my head on the back right on the corner of the curb. I spasmed a while before the other student quickly dragged me up, patting me down. I was extremely disoriented. I used to be very accident-prone as a child, constantly falling, cutting myself, and hitting my head while regularly falling over. Taking trips to the hospital weekly was a norm for me, my second home. I decided to write poetry during the COVID-19 lockdown in 2020. My first book is a collection of poetry I usually wrote down in a notebook, which went missing while my family cleaned my dishevelled bedroom. My fate took away my self-care and need for food, too. I can't keep up a regular routine other than writing poems for Facebook and X, hoping to help others and get publicity with my not-so-profitable books, too (we all need money). I've self-published five books on Amazon (you'll find them on the store page), and I'm almost finished with my sixth, "Abundant Dark Clouds." Why I called it that is a mystery even to myself, but one reason is that dark clouds aren't really ominous but a gift from Allah to clothe and feed nature, nourishing the dead, thirsty earth. Not all unaesthetic and inconvenient things are of bad taste or even fate!

My Journey of Peace.

My Self-published poetry and prose books should conjure dormant emotions of love and loss, distress and hope. My Islamic poetry and prose publications were written to show the world that words are more powerful than weapons. There was a time when many nations revered Islam, but now, even Muslims detest Islam and what it stands for. With non-Muslim propaganda, Islam was vilified and rejected through the trickery of the hypocrites with heartless persecution and mockery. I'm not violent, even though I know various dangerous martial arts. I abhor war and believe that any conflict we may have as differing races or religions may be solved through talking and debating like rational, emotional and intellectual people.

After October 7th 2023.

The Israeli aggression has seen a significant number of Gazan Muslims murdered at a staggering pace. Israel has little or no intention to stop its brutal violations of human rights. Forty thousand thousand innocent women and children have been massacred, mainly due to constant carpet bombing over 130 days since October 2023, leaving despair and trauma in the eyes of the survivors. We know that Israel doesn't value Palestinian human life, so we have learnt to appreciate life due to them instead. We only take life if ours is at stake, and it is. All Muslims are one body, as Muhammad (pbuh) taught us through his words guided by Allah, the one true God. The Israeli-Jewish claim that the Gazans and all Muslims are barbaric 'Goy' who deserve to be killed ultimately to 'cleanse' this planet. Their Talmud (collection of laws) teaches them to violate us, for we amount for little love or respect from them. Many Jews deny the writings of the Talmud, however. Not all Jews are Israeli, however. Many Jews on earth deny the existence of a Jewish state, as the Zionist dream for a jew-only land hasn't been commanded in the Torah, as only their messiah will create for them a land to live in. Their messiah has not arrived yet in their teachings. We Muslims taught the disbelievers many things throughout history, from the existence of germs to toothbrushes and showering. Yet, here these primates are, acting like Hamas beheaded 40 babies and raped the dead breastless corpses of the partygoers on October 7th, 2023. It's horrible to think that the Israelis can invent such terrible accusations against Muslims that are swiftly believed by the West only because they're European and the Palestinians are Arabs. The double standards are very apparent to us. Muslims, no matter how religious, know that rape and killing babies is wholly forbidden. We aren't animals, as the Zionist regimes argue we are. We don't commit indecent acts, as this is disgraceful and unnecessary. Sexual humility is essential due to the reason that we may be married, we may love our wives and children. Rape is a Western tactic to send a message to their enemies, especially Muslims. Our women who practice the Hijab and are very modest and revered by the men, once violated, break our will to fight but induce blind rage, however. To rape a captive in front of fellow soldiers and be seen by Allah would bring ruin and disgrace. Sexual activities are only for reproduction and stress relief through the pleasure created. Love and understanding between two people are created this way. Only devils are sadists who enjoy causing this complete pain to women.

Flight.

The twisting, churning inside. I'm not hungry, but I may eat only to taste. There's a deep need to be free, watching birds forage and fly, sing and bicker over berries. My core is stuck, and I can't escape. The pang is like a sharp knife, sharpened by me only to cut me fatally while I search for it. The pity, I feel, is nothing new. I know the pitied would pity me, for I don't belong, unlike them. It rains forever in my mind, for tears never fall from my eyes. I hid it in a section of my weak, damaged mind, only to reveal the sorrow on a day of my choosing when the bird flew away one last time.

My Traumas.

When the walls I've built crumble, my mind is again protected and reinforced. Sometimes, I overlook the old walls, which have long since been cared for. I have mechanisms in my heart and mind that reject specific memories and feelings from contemporary experiences. The fears and pains sometimes seep from the cracks and holes of my newer, sturdier walls. I don't realise why the pain always returns, but I have learnt to manage it. The pain never heals, but they don't need to stop us from living healthy, productive lives. A forgotten memory is hardly recollected, shadowy and terrifying; the terror calls to me, trying to be a part of the kind and happy side that never liked the pain. The pain does smile, laugh, and lie to be a part of my existence again. The rejected suffering hammers at the walls, desperately trying to get through to me. Why would pain want to be loved? Yet the screams of the tumour in my emotions get louder and louder, rejected and insane; the pain begins to change into people around me. They stare, and they mock. They don't care, and they don't know.

The beginnings.

When human civilisation began millions of years ago, the first races of Jinn were created from smokeless fire, plants, and animals on this Earth. Humanity was placed on Earth by Allah with only two people, man and woman, Aadam (Adam) and Hawwaa (Eve). They had sinned to be cast out of heaven and into Earth, cursed and punished by Allah (Allah has more incredible plans for humanity). Allah planned to put humanity on Earth, who knew right from wrong and decided to do good instead of evil. So, our two ancestors called and begged Allah for forgiveness and were eventually forgiven by our creator. Adam and Hawwaa knew evil right at the beginning, and it was temptations form Iblis (devil) and how his lies were so inviting. So we as humans sin, regret the sin, and seek forgiveness for it. We must be the first good creation of Allah that knows right from wrong and does both right and wrong, growing in understanding of these two criteria of right and wrong. It has been so long since we came to this planet, and our faith is weak compared to ancient ones. I pray that Allah, the most merciful, would give us a sign and some hope against Iblis and his human instruments who seek our pain for their happiness. Iblis only desires the ruin of all humanity. He works till the end of all Earthly life to disobey Allah and harm the believers that he knows are destined for great things in Jannah (paradise).

My life and Islam. As a child, I constantly thought intensely about the world and its meaning. I only talked a little and knew there was more to life than fun and games. Even though I was small, I was more grown-up than other children my age. Being born in the UK, school never taught us about Islam, and there were no Muslim teachers there. I used to write about Islam at first and was very proud of my work, but I wasn't given any credit for it and was sometimes told off by the teachers. So, I decided to keep my faith at home instead of showing my passion for religion at school. Colouring and writing stories seemed purposeless, but I did it as best as possible. It seemed straightforward and unproductive compared to the true meaning of why I was alive that I was seeking. Once, when learning about the Holocaust of millions of European Jews, a thought came into my mind about what we were learning; "what was their religion about? We aren't learning about that, but what happened to them." Even Judaism wasn't taught, as Zionism is a controlling characteristic in the UK! Years have passed, and I know that Muslims being terrorists are being widely conducted in schools and mandatory for our children. While my friends talked about movies and games, I rambled the playground, looking at plants and kicking stones. I knew I didn't belong in a place that never cared about the splendours of life and our creator, Allah. They thought I was strange and I never cared to talk much, even though I could. When I spoke about Islam, they disregarded or mocked me. I got into fights and showed a lot of strength when defending myself. My inner anger towards the other children came bursting out often, and I found it frightening to experience a rage that I never knew was boiling inside me. Life was a load of emotional injuries inflicted on my emotions and heart, resulting in the insociable person I am today. If I voice my concerns, I'd be avoided, mocked, insulted, and made even smaller than I already am. I do feel left out and very old- fashioned to others in comparison, but I know Allah is with me, and when the last day arrives, games and movies won't help them; only Islam will.

I’m Modassir, or

Mubasshir. second

name Khan

My Journey of Peace.

After October 7th 2023.

Flight.

My Traumas.

The beginnings.

My life and Islam. As a child, I constantly thought intensely about the world and its meaning. I only talked a little and knew there was more to life than fun and games. Even though I was small, I was more grown-up than other children my age. Being born in the UK, school never taught us about Islam, and there were no Muslim teachers there. I used to write about Islam at first and was very proud of my work, but I wasn't given any credit for it and was sometimes told off by the teachers. So, I decided to keep my faith at home instead of showing my passion for religion at school. Colouring and writing stories seemed purposeless, but I did it as best as possible. It seemed straightforward and unproductive compared to the true meaning of why I was alive that I was seeking. Once, when learning about the Holocaust of millions of European Jews, a thought came into my mind about what we were learning; "what was their religion about? We aren't learning about that, but what happened to them." Even Judaism wasn't taught, as Zionism is a controlling characteristic in the UK! Years have passed, and I know that Muslims being terrorists are being widely conducted in schools and mandatory for our children. While my friends talked about movies and games, I rambled the playground, looking at plants and kicking stones. I knew I didn't belong in a place that never cared about the splendours of life and our creator, Allah. They thought I was strange and I never cared to talk much, even though I could. When I spoke about Islam, they disregarded or mocked me. I got into fights and showed a lot of strength when defending myself. My inner anger towards the other children came bursting out often, and I found it frightening to experience a rage that I never knew was boiling inside me. Life was a load of emotional injuries inflicted on my emotions and heart, resulting in the insociable person I am today. If I voice my concerns, I'd be avoided, mocked, insulted, and made even smaller than I already am. I do feel left out and very old-fashioned to others in comparison, but I know Allah is with me, and when the last day arrives, games and movies won't help them; only Islam will.