While the World Moves On
A Duaa for the Oppressed, the Imprisoned, and the Forgotten
There are pains that never reach us fully.
We hear the news. We feel something for a moment. Then the world pulls us back into our work, our homes, our money, our plans, and our schedules. We return to our food, our sleep, our safety, as if nothing happened.
But there are people who do not return.
There are people who remain behind heavy doors, behind iron bars, behind a long absence, waiting for a relief that no one owns except Allah.
This duaa is not only for the oppressed, the imprisoned, and the forgotten.
It is also a mirror for us.
A mirror for hearts that became used to blessings until they forgot to thank Allah for them. A mirror for souls that heard pain so often that they almost became numb to it. A mirror for people who owned freedom for so long that they began to think it was normal.
This is the duaa:
While the World Moves On.
In the Name of Allah, the Most Merciful, the Especially Merciful.
O Allah, send Your peace and blessings upon our Prophet Muhammad, the Prophet of mercy, the lamp of those who are lost, the comfort of the broken, and the intercessor of the sinners.
O Allah, send Your peace and blessings upon the one You sent as light in an age of darkness, as a door for those whose world became tight, and as a rope for those weighed down by their sins.
O Allah, send Your peace and blessings upon him and upon his pure family, those through whom You preserved the light of guidance, and through whose remembrance You placed tranquility in the hearts.
And send Your peace and blessings upon every heart that loved him sincerely, held onto his light, walked upon his path, and hoped for Your mercy after him until the Day of Judgment.
My Lord…
Here we are, standing at Your door, with hearts wounded by the separation from our Muslim brothers and sisters, hearts that have found no refuge except You.
O Most Merciful.
O Especially Merciful.
O Vast in blessings.
O You whose gifts cannot be counted, and whose favors cannot be limited.
O You who gave, and enriched.
O You who fed, and satisfied.
O You who gave drink, and quenched.
O You who sheltered, and covered.
O You who gave safety, and showed mercy.
My Lord…
All praise belongs to You for doors we open whenever we wish, for roads we walk upon in safety, and for homes we return to in peace.
All praise belongs to You for cold water we drink with ease, for air we breathe without fear, and for a sun we see every morning.
All praise belongs to You for the voices of our families around us, for the laughter of our children, and for days that pass in safety while we barely feel the weight of that blessing.
All praise belongs to You for mosques we enter in humility, for Qur’an we recite without chains, for sujood in which we place our foreheads on the ground in peace, and for hands we raise to You without fear.
My Lord…
We wake up free.
We move through the day free.
We leave whenever we wish.
We return whenever we wish.
We eat whenever we wish.
We drink whenever we wish.
And we sleep without hearing the sound of locks closing around us.
Then we fail to feel the greatness of Your blessings.
Instead, we complain.
We complain that the world is too tight.
We resent what we think is too little.
And we keep wanting more.
A bigger home.
More money.
Longer comfort.
A pleasure that never ends.
As if what we already have is small.
And somewhere on this earth, there is someone who longs for a fraction of what we became used to, a fraction of what we forgot, a fraction of what we passed by without gratitude.
My Lord…
How many of Your servants wake and sleep bound in iron, not because of a crime they committed, but because they believed in You, or spoke a word of truth, or remained firm upon their land and home, or carried the pain of their people, or guarded their faith and dignity, or refused to surrender their heart to anyone but You.
A wall was placed between him and his mother and father.
A wall was placed between him and his wife and children.
And what remained was a long isolation, and a heavy absence.
He hears nothing but the creaking of doors.
He sees nothing but the length of separation.
He owns nothing but hope in Your mercy, and trust in Your gentleness.
Like Yunus in the belly of darkness.
He called upon You, and You heard him.
He surrendered his affair to You, and You saved him.
And how many absent ones long for what we consider simple.
They long for what we became used to until we forgot it.
To breathe freely.
To drink cold water.
To prostrate to You in peace.
To say to their families:
“I am still alive.”
My Lord…
By Your praise, we own so much.
Provision that is enough for us.
Water that quenches us.
Time that is granted to us.
A door that opens.
A road that can be walked.
Then we waste our lives.
We kill our hours.
We spend Your blessings on what does not benefit us.
And still, the heart keeps asking for more.
O You who were with Yusuf in the darkness of prison.
And with Yunus in the belly of darkness.
And with Ibrahim when the fire was lit, and You said to it:
“Be coolness and peace.”
Then make, for our oppressed brothers and sisters, coolness from the fire of oppression, and peace after the length of trial.
Be with our oppressed brothers and sisters.
Those who have no helper except You.
No door except Your door.
No hope except Your mercy.
Keep them firm when they tremble.
Give them safety when they fear.
Expand their chests when they tighten.
Mend their hearts when they break.
Return them to their families with a beautiful return.
And do not leave them to anyone other than You, not even for the blink of an eye.
My Lord…
How many mothers have had their sons taken from them.
She eats, but no food brings her comfort.
She closes her eyes, but her heart does not rest.
She hears every knock and thinks it may be news of him.
She carries his name in her chest like a wound that does not heal, and like a prayer that does not stop.
My Lord…
Have mercy on every mother who waits.
Every mother who endures.
Every mother who cries a cry no one knows except You.
Mend their brokenness.
Expand their chests.
Keep their hearts firm.
And return their absent ones to them with a beautiful return.
As You returned Musa to his mother.
As You returned Yusuf to his father.
And as You brought water and provision for Hajar from the heart of the desert.
My Lord…
How many wives have had their husbands taken from them.
She turns off the light, but her heart does not sleep.
She sets the food down, but the place remains empty.
She hides her tears from her children.
She walks out with a calm face, while inside her chest is a sea that does not settle.
My Lord…
Have mercy on every wife who has been patient.
Every home whose warmth has disappeared.
Every place that remained empty.
Every night in which separation became long.
Keep them firm, O Turner and Keeper of hearts.
Expand their chests, O Light of the heavens and the earth.
Mend their brokenness, O Restorer.
Give them a hope that does not wither, and a certainty that does not weaken.
My Lord…
How many fathers have had their sons taken from them.
He gathers what remains of his strength while his heart cracks inside him.
He hides his tears so the home can remain standing.
He carries his grief alone.
He cries alone.
Then he raises his head to You and says:
Allah is enough for me, and He is the best disposer of affairs.
My Lord…
Have mercy on every frightened father.
Every helpless father.
Every father waiting for relief.
Every father carrying what he cannot bear.
Fill his chest with tranquility.
Fill his heart with certainty.
And cool his eyes with the return of those he loves.
Be with him as You were with Yaqub when his eyes turned white from grief.
And as You were with Nuh when he called out to his son.
And as You were with Ibrahim when he surrendered his affair to You.
My Lord…
How many children have had their fathers taken from them.
Their hearts were shocked.
Their voices went silent.
Their childhood was hidden away.
Their innocence disappeared.
They search for an embrace.
They wait for a voice.
They sleep with longing.
And they wake up broken.
O Hearer of supplication…
Have mercy on their childhood.
Protect their innocence.
Mend their brokenness.
Do not let oppression extinguish their light.
Compensate them, O Lord.
For the fear they lived.
For the nights they cried.
For the embrace they were denied.
For the safety they lost.
Give them safety after pain.
Joy after sadness.
Reunion after loss.
And a beautiful healing after brokenness.
O Gentle One.
O Restorer.
O Most Merciful of those who show mercy.
My Lord…
And there are servants from Your creation who carry the pain of the oppressed.
They walk difficult roads.
They stand before closed doors.
They raise their voices in a world struck by silence.
Among them are human rights groups who carry the cause when people abandon it.
Among them are lawyers who stand at the doors of justice, asking for fairness for those who have no voice.
Among them are those who write to awaken a heart.
Among them are those who defend to lift oppression.
Among them are those who speak to revive a truth.
Among them are those who gather people upon a mercy that does not fade.
My Lord…
Bless their efforts.
Guide their steps.
Make their words a key to a near relief.
Do not waste their exhaustion.
Do not disappoint their hope.
Make them people of truth when souls become weak.
People of firmness when hearts begin to tremble.
And people of mercy when the world becomes hard.
And among them are those who work in secret.
Their names are not seen.
Their voices are not heard.
But You see their effort.
You know their sincerity.
And the reward of those who do good is never lost with You.
O Allah, reward them on behalf of the oppressed with the best reward.
Keep their hearts firm.
Guide their tongues.
Strengthen their resolve.
Do not waste their exhaustion.
Do not disappoint their hope.
Make their effort a light.
Make their words leave an impact.
Make their labor a door to a near relief.
And make them people of guidance when the paths are lost.
People of firmness when hearts tremble.
People of truth when souls become weak.
My Lord…
Then look upon us.
Look upon our mosques when they fall silent.
Look upon our homes when they become distracted.
Look upon our hearts when they become hard.
O Allah, do not let us hear pain and then become used to it.
Do not let us see oppression and then move past it.
Do not let us know the truth and then remain silent about it.
Do not let us pray for the oppressed and then forget them.
My Lord…
Awaken mercy within us.
Revive honor within us.
Make us among those who hear and remember.
Among those who see and move.
Do not let us forget our brothers and sisters after the duaa.
Do not let us mention them with our tongues while our hearts and actions become heedless of them.
My Lord…
And what about me?
What do I own for my brothers and sisters except duaa?
I stand before their news broken.
And I feel that the chains are not only on their hands.
They are also in my heart, when I know and then become heedless.
When I hear and then move on.
When I want to speak, but the world pulls me back toward itself.
It pulls me toward work.
Toward interests.
Toward money.
And I forget that life is passing.
And that You will ask me about the blessings You entrusted to me.
Here I am, standing before You.
And I am the one most in need of confession.
I am the one who saw blessings and became used to them.
I heard pain and moved past it.
I owned hours and wasted them.
I owned a voice and silenced it.
I owned a heart and distracted it away from You.
My Lord…
Here I am, alone before You.
I have no door except Your door.
And no healing except what is with You.
O Comfort of the lonely.
O Mercy of the broken.
O Refuge of the afraid.
O Most Merciful of those who show mercy.
If You leave me to myself, I will be lost.
And if You return me to You, I will be saved.
So return me to You with a beautiful return.
And do not leave me to anyone other than You, not even for the blink of an eye.
My Lord…
Do not make me free without gratitude.
Do not make me safe without mercy.
Do not make me capable without action.
Do not make me someone who hears without a heart.
Wash my heart from heedlessness.
Purify my intention from showing off.
Make my tears truthful.
Make my duaa beneficial.
Make my actions sincere.
Do not make me someone who is moved but never changes.
Or someone who prays but is not honest in striving.
Or someone who knows the path and then turns away from it.
O Gentle One…
Be gentle with us in whatever the decrees have brought.
O Forgiving One…
Forgive us for what is seen from us and what is hidden.
And do not leave us to ourselves, not even for the blink of an eye.
My Lord…
Make what we have shed before You a light for us on the day we meet You.
If we become heedless, awaken us by Your gentleness.
If we become weak, carry us by Your mercy.
If we fall, raise us by Your generosity.
O Allah, forgive the one who made this duaa.
And the one who listened.
And the one who said ameen in silence.
And forgive the one who was far from You, then longing shook his heart back toward You.
O Allah, do not leave for us in this hour any sin except that You forgive it.
Any worry except that You relieve it.
Any broken one except that You mend him.
Any lost one except that You guide him.
Any afflicted one except that You show him mercy.
Seal our lives with Your mercy.
Do not take our souls except while You are pleased with us.
Make these words a witness for us, not against us.
By Your mercy, O Most Merciful of those who show mercy.
Peace be upon the messengers.
And all praise belongs to Allah, Lord of the worlds.
And may Allah send peace and blessings upon our Prophet Muhammad, and upon his pure and noble family.
Conclusion
This duaa is not a collection of words to be said and then forgotten.
It is a reminder that behind every headline we pass by, there are hearts breaking, homes waiting, children growing up before their time, and mothers and fathers carrying a pain that most people will never see.
It is also a reminder that when we become used to blessings, we may lose the ability to thank Allah for them. When we become used to freedom, we may forget those who were deprived of it. And duaa is not an escape from responsibility. It is the beginning of the heart waking up. The beginning of sincerity. The beginning of returning to Allah.
We ask Allah to relieve the oppressed, to free the imprisoned, to return the absent to their families with a beautiful return, and to never make us among those who hear pain and then become used to it, or those who make duaa and then become heedless.
O Allah, make these words a witness for us, not against us.
Make them a door of mercy, a door of healing, and a door of return to You.
Ameen, O Most Merciful of those who show mercy.