the wonder of younger

Today the monotony of routine was punctuated with a fluttering of my heart. A 'little one' enthusiastically greeted me with the sincerest "hello dokotela'.
Children ... alhamdulillah . If ever one was looking for signs of Allah's Rahma, it is manifest in the spirit of a child. They resonate self-confidence and exude ... pure joy.

My answer to the 'nature/nurture' debate (today) would be 'nurture'. I wonder how long it takes before innocence dissipates and children start to resemble the adults around them who look as though they have been slapped around by life too many times. How long before society frames them into objects of docile servitude or warriors of belligerent aggression?

What does it take to hold on to those qualities which makes friendships seem eternal and enemies long forgotten?

I sometimes see men in privileged societies who are as carefree as children and I often see children from impoverished places who have the anger of men - they have experienced loss too profound to pen.

When a child compliments you , hold it very dear. What leaves their mouths echoes the sweetest sincerity and what reflects in their eyes is an innocence that is mortal.

We are bound together by Him

In seeking the perfect marriage,
we must be our perfect selves
polishing the mirror of self-reflection
before pointing the finger of accusation

In seeking the perfect marriage
we realise : perfection is an aspiration
that 'absolutes' belong in teenage movies
and trite advice in trashy magazines

In seeking the perfect partner
we must be the perfect partner
In an aura of total tolerance
with a sweet glow of compassion

In seeking the ultimate companion
we must seek the Only One
and then join hands in reaching upward
so that we are bound by Him Alone

and in a moment of introspection
we realise that relationships are fleeting
and that some are built for this world
and that others will reign eternal

and in moments of petty discord
we realise : the Goal is greater still
and that romance is not the purpose
but a blessing from above

and in seeking the perfect moment
when coolness binds your gazes together
let these word touch your lips:
We are bound together by Him

We are bound together by Him

To Israel - with love

a smell of white phosphorous touches her lips
an embrace of shrapnel reminds
of the man next door
who's done this before
and then faces the world again

himself an illegitimate product
of an adulterous union
between the guilty conscience of nations

and in the womb is brooding
a foetus of men
who will bomb for the pride of their fathers

and their names will spell
the repercussion
of crimes that went untold

and the silent and guilty
will be called to order
for it was Gaza's body they sold