word: tawaqul, a saddest word

 There was a time when tawakul felt like a warm embrace, a quiet surrender wrapped in faith. It was the solace in whispered prayers, the strength in letting go, the unwavering belief that no matter how shattered the heart, something greater was at work.

But today, tawakul feels different. It tastes of tears swallowed in silence, of hands gripping air, reaching for something that will never return. It is the ache of trying, of holding on, of hoping, only to be left with nothing but the hollow echo of "it is what it is."

And yet, even in its sadness, tawakul remains. Not as a choice, but as the only thing left to do.