One Year of Bareeha...

 

My Dearest,

                     I dare not to cut your birthday cake as those little children in Palestine are being brutally slaughtered. I am experiencing anguish and my heart is in continuous suffering. I cannot celebrate your first birthday when there are those who are perplexed by their pain and toil. They are experiencing those emotions in their affliction and soreness which are forbidden to a child. They are watching everything which is beyond their age. 

I cannot candle your cake when a child's heart is burning with the uncoupling of loved ones. I cannot cream your face with cake when a child's face is  the picture of complete loss. I cannot clap, for it may fright the child somewhere in the world who might take it for airstrike. I cannot host a gathering because my heart is dejected and my soul is in despair.

Here, your mother cannot be logical. Far and apart from the debate about who is who and what is what, the real warriors of this war are those who have lost their lives dreaming of a toy or sucking the feeders or maybe clinging to mothers in a sheer panic. They, who by our Allah and Prophet (P.B.U.H), are declared to be our own brothers and sisters. So, lets dedicate this day to them.

They are chosen to be eternally innocent. They will forever be the flowers of Jannah as the animality of this world did not let them to step into their youth. Hence, I abstain myself from forgetting their faces doped in blood. Their hopeless search for their mothers. Their silence that silenced me and their screams towards which whole the world has turned cold and callous.

I pray for you not to experience this ever in your life and may Allah grant you the capacity to empathize. Ameen.