Worship.

What happens when religion and love collide?

My life has always been for Him, and Him alone. Ever since I took my first sharp, cold breath of air in this strange world, my sole purpose in life has always been to worship Him, for His remembrance. My life has never been meant for any person or thing except for Him.

I am to give myself to Him.

I shift slightly under the covers, careful not to make too much movement. There is that familiar, odd sensation of being hollow, carved into my chest. I press my fingers onto the area where it aches; that expanse of bare skin over my beating heart. Perhaps it is Him, reminding me of the grave sin I still continue to commit.

Perhaps He still reminds me to give myself to Him.

With that train of thought comes forth the sudden rush of memories I try so hard to bury within the spaces in my mind. Images flood my vision; an aged woman, tears dried up on her hollow cheeks as she continues to rage on.





"First your father, then your sister, and now you! Are you all planning to send me to my grave? Jahanam kau! This is Satan growing inside of you! This is what happens when you don't give yourself to Allah! Astaughfirullah'al'azim!"






I open my eyes, trying to focus on something in the dark room, so I don't see her face when I shut my eyelids. I try to block out her voice, still ringing in my ears after nearly a decade.

It does not work.





"You'll go to hell for this sin! Neraka! My child! Don't you ever think before hurting? Haven't you thought of this at all? This is a temporary life, girl! A temporary life! Your punishment is eternal! Eternal!"






I have always known that. I knew that His anger would be immeasurable; that His wrath would be unprecedented. I was aware of it from the very beginning.

But I still wanted His light.

I wanted to return to His Paradise, back to His Palace, after I had paid my unearthly dues. I still wanted to return to my Creator, as He had created me. I still wanted to believe that He loved me, despite my flaws, despite my black mark on this earth. I still wanted Him to love me.

And for that, I had to continue giving myself to him.

The same voice; gentler, more welcoming now. Even further back in time.




"In order for you to achieve something, you should work hard for it. Work for it, and ask God for His aid. Because you can never achieve anything without the will of God, no matter how hard you try. After your hard work, you give yourself to Him. That is how life goes."





I listened. I continued acting as a good, loyal servant of God would. I spread His love through my actions, praying that it would count as service to the One I called my Lord. I acted out of fear for Him. I helped the needy, and aided the ill and aged. I continued to pray, to prostrate myself to Him. I recited the words He had relayed through His Archangels to His Prophet. I sat, night after night, fervently praising Him, my heart fixed onto His remembrance.

I gave myself to Him.

But would it be enough? He knew, as much as I did, that I held in a part of my still beating heart, the love for another. The love for another which was as strong as the love for a man for his wife, or a woman for her husband. The strong, silent love, an unbreakable bond that I held inside of me for a woman that was universal; so common in essence, and yet so unique and special. A part of me had fused with her.

No matter how much the world tried to tear us apart, here we stayed, side by side, as soulmates. I wondered so many times, like I did this night, whether God had ever meant for us to be together like we were now. And even if it wasn't, why was my heart set on it being as it was? Why, if it was so wrong, and sinful, and abhorred, did it have to be so...right? It wasn't fair. I loved her, like anyone would love their mate. I loved her more than anyone in this world. I loved her like-

"Are you alright?"

I twitched a little, taken by surprise by the sudden sound of her voice, and the touch of her fingertips on my bare shoulder.

I had not noticed my pillow getting damp.

She inches closer to me, her body pressing against mine. Her arms wrap around my waist, pulling me to her. "You were crying again."

I cannot answer.

"I love you", she says quietly, kissing the hollow between my shoulder and neck.

------

I lie awake for the rest of the night, waiting for the digital clock on my bedside table to show me the numbers I wanted to see.

05.43

I prise her limbs from my waist, careful so as not to wake her up. I slide out of bed as discreetly as I can, careful not to rock the mattress. She stirs slightly in her sleep, but does not awaken. I make my way to the bathroom.

The water feels cool and soothing in the early hours of morning. My mind is as clear as the liquid coursing over my skin as I cleanse myself. For the moment, I think of nothing but the next act of worship I am about to perform.

I step out, reciting verses my mother taught me so long ago. I reach out for the familiar white cloth to robe myself in. It covers my being completely, save for my face, still damp from the water of ablution.

I look over at my beloved, still wrapped in the soft folds of her dreams, and turn back to what I was meant to do, since the beginning of my life. I step onto the woven mat, and I begin.

I give myself to Him.