Today I would like to briefly share Ms. Feyza Şahin’s reflections on Ramadan. She compares Ramadan to a safe haven in a world full of wars and herself to a refugee that would like to remain in the safe haven:
“I waited for these days like a desperate refugee, waiting for the border to open. As I was suffering in the hunger and the thirst of my soul, I threw myself through the door that was opened as a cure for all troubles into the arms of mercy, with the hope that it would envelop me and never let me go.
I don’t want to leave this safe haven. It feels as if my feet aren’t really on the ground, as if everything is illuminated, as if the dimensions have mixed with each other and the veils between this world and the unknown have thinned. As if we are perceiving the seen and the unseen together. In this time of mercy, in this land, in this world within the world, I am happy with my hungry stomach and my aching head. I am happy.
I have surrendered to the divine speech that reverberates through the heavens above my head and envelops me like a protective cover; I listened and I rejoiced, I listened and I became scared, I listened and I cried. I listened to the beautiful words that laid out the secrets of the universe in front of my eyes.
As the time for this door to close comes, which was opened only temporarily, I am frightened like a little child; I want to delude myself with an impossible dream that if I close my eyes maybe time will stop.
Even if the door closes, I hope the memory of the things behind it remains fresh and lights up my path until it opens again. I will sit down by its threshold and won’t go anywhere else. I am a desperate refugee in this world. Where else can I go?”
