Note:
Through the years I have collected poems and other inspirational documents.
I would like to share the below with you.
Please keep in mind that I am not quoting it because I want to promote non-islamic texts or because I'm a white supremist, (As someone called me).
I am sharing this poem for it has touched my heart and because I am surrounded by (Practicing) Muslims who don't care at all about how they neglect their Mother's; yet those same persons are quick to judge.
Anyway, enjoy and make dua for those who are unjust toward their aged parents so that Allah may put mercy and love in the hearts of those who can make a difference to the lives of those elderly people.
****
Somebody's Mother
The woman was old and ragged and gray
And bent with the chill of the Winter's day.
The street was wet with a recent snow
And the woman's feet were aged and slow.
She stood at the crossing and waited long,
Alone, uncared for, amid the throng
Of human beings who passed her by
Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye.
Down the street with laughter and shout,
Glad in the freedom of 'school let out,"
Came the boys like a flock of sheep,
Hailing the snow piled white and deep.
Past the woman so old and gray
Hastened the children on their way.
Nor offered a helping hand to her--
So meek, so tired, afraid to stir
Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet
Should crowd her down in the slippery street.
At last came one of the merry troop,
The gayest laddie of all the group;
He paused beside her and whispered low,
'I'll help you cross, if you wish to go."
Her aged hand on his strong young arm
She placed, and so, without hurt or harm,
He guided the trembling feet along,
Proud that his own were firm and strong.
Then back again to his friends he went,
His young heart happy and well content.
'She's somebody's mother, boys, you know,
For all she's aged and poor and slow,
'And I hope some fellow will lend a hand
To help my mother, you understand,
'If ever she's poor and old and gray,
When her own dear boy is far away.'
And "somebody's mother" bowed low her head
In her home that night, and the prayer she said
Was, 'God be kind to the noble boy,
Who is somebody's son, and pride and joy!"
Hey there! Looks like you're enjoying the discussion, but you're not signed up for an account.
When you create an account, we remember exactly what you've read, so you always come right back where you left off. You also get notifications, here and via email, whenever new posts are made. And you can like posts and share your thoughts. Sign Up
Hide
Looks like you're enjoying the discussion, but you're not signed up for an account.
Posting Permissions
Bookmarks