I cannot know how many souls I’ve hurt
By words of anger, wit or humor wry
Or through a wretched grimace or a smirk
Or even through a shrug or meaning sigh
Repair those broken hearts beyond repair
In ways that only You can, Ya Rahman
And let myself be fashioned as a stair
For such of Your ‘ibaad to step upon
And into their abode with me in tow
With hope to follow where their footsteps go