Une vie franco-pakistanaise
And saying this I realized…
That the only reason of my happiness was you.
You meant the whole world to me.
Some supernatural entity.
All I wanted was a glance from you.
Your words to cool my heart.
Your arms were home to me.
But years passing by…
I drifted and finally got lost.
Then yesterday, in an interview cast,
when they asked me : « Who you are ? »
I recalled what had faded away,
I was…your child.
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When she was three
Was labeled abnormal.
Unable to feed herself,
Unable to walk,
Unable to give my smiles back.
Disabled, my child.
I cried a lot that time.
Secretly went mad.
But then, there was she,
My lovely offspring.
Unable to express her love to me.
Unable to enjoy her life.
Unable to make friends.
Unable to marry a guy one day.
Along with her wheelchair,
Her mother and I tried.
As hard as we could to make our child survive.
With all of it’s ups and downs,
She’s in late 20s now.
But yesterday, doctors told me
She’s gonna die.
I went to the mosque today,
Like everyday,
And regardless of what people would say,
In His home I cried,
Cause she’s the one I brought up.
My eye’s sight,
My jewel, my reason of life.
For she should not die before my eyes.
And prayed with the depths of my heart,
That she reaps the crop of hurdles she’s been through here.
There she will be able and valid.
Two or three days left to live,
barely enough to say goodbye.
But my child, again, is unable to say goodbye…
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