The hands have become heavy Ya Rubb
The hands have become heavy
They do not raise nor do they want to
The suffering of others has become common place
Not a second thought we spare
To others we turn begging for assistance
Impatient we have become
Wanting an answer, wanting it yesterday
To be protected from every harm we seek
But little of the evil of ourselves do we see
Sleep through the last third, complain when we are ill, turn not to our parents and peck in the salah like hens.
We wonder then why treasures do not fall from the skies
A Lord who loves to be asked but asking has become a chore
Ants seek their sustenance from You
But man feels his destiny is in his own hands
Arrogance and ignorance what a cocktail
But it is the drink held to our lips by the accused.
Who cuts himself off from Mercy?
Morning, noon and night you are told to ask
Till the pangs of death take hold you are told to ask
A man will tire of giving but Allah is sufficient for us if you only but knew
He knows you in poverty
He knows you in despair
He knows you in hunger
He knows you when no one else will
Miracles are worked by your asking if you only did so
Ask till your lips go dry, till your heart fills, till day becomes night
Till you feel ashamed to ask for more
Ask till your desires run empty
He would have met you with more then you could have imagined.
You alone close the doors to salvation
None but you
The hands have become heavy Ya Rubb
The hands have become heavy…
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