No, it’s not 100% related to Islam, but this is a “poem” I wrote when I was thirteen about my mother, Allah yarhamha. She passed away only a few days before I wrote this, and I thought you may like to read something that is very much from my heart.
Although it’s not directly related to my conversion, Islam does teach us to respect and love our mothers – more than any human being we know. Someone came to the Prophet Muhammad once and asked who he should love the most. Besides Allah (swt) and Prophet Muhammad, he was instructed to love his mother. He then asked who he should love next. The Prophet Muhammad said his mother again. And he asked a third time and Prophet Muhammad said his mother. Then on the forth time Prophet Muhammad responded with his father.
I know a lot of people think that women have no rights or respect in Islam, but that’s completely untrue. I’ve never been so respected until I became Muslim. And Muslim men treat women with the right kind of respect.
No, my mother never took her shahada, so technically she didn’t die a Muslim, but she rarely discussed religion with me, and when she did she never mentioned anything that would lead me to believe she was Christian.
Whoever you are, I hope that you take a second and realize how lucky you are to have your mother – and what a blessing that is from God. Even if you are mad at her. Even if she pisses you off. Even if she’s annoying…Go hug her, go kiss her, go annoy her. If I had any wish in the entire world, I would wish to spend one more day with my mother.
“All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother”
I’m sure I’ll speak more on this subject going forward, but I hope you enjoy my poem from nearly 9 years ago.
As the day goes by, I realize how blessed I was to have the sun. She shined bright, rising as gorgeous as the sky herself; more beautiful than any creature she warms. She awakened with each morning breeze. I loved her more than anything. She lit up my life, and now she lights up the sky. Her radiance touched everyone through her day, but she dies at night, where the sky turns red & orange. I hate those colors. But does she really disappear?
Perhaps I just cannot see her anymore. She is shining on someone else just as beautifully. She is painting a picture somewhere else in the world. She is inspiring an artist in a foreign country. Somewhere I am not, and I wish I was. Sometimes I feel so lonely, for I am the moon. I can never see the sun when she is the most happy. She lives in a golden utopia. She lives where the angels sing in the sky I am always on her opposite side, and when I bring night, she brings the gift of day. After all, I revolve around the Earth, but the Earth revolves around the sun. I am not as beloved, not as fun to play in. I turn the world dark and cold. The sun reminded me of my importance and special qualities.
But now, she is gone. Gone from my sight, yet she will always return – or I will return to her, instead. I wish I could see the sun and meet her for a longer part of the day than I was able to. But, it’s not possible. And when I did see her, which was seldom, clouds often hid her. The clouds hide the memories. The clouds are time. We did not spend enough time together.
But, someday the clouds will disperse. They will leave and never come back. I’ll be able to see her after all and I shall proudly join her in her utopia. I will be reunited with all of the other stars that I have missed throughout my life, but the brightest- not only in the sky, but also in my heart – is the sun.
I’ll dance in her glory, I’ll spend all of my time with her. I have always admired her.
However, I do not know when that day will come. For now, it is dark and daulight burned out hours ago. She’s on the other side of the world looking magnificent. Others, who I am jealous of are frolicking in her rays. Are clouds covering her there? Perhaps I’ll never know, but I know that I will see her. Eventually.
While the people on Earth look for chirping birds and morning breezes to signal her arrival, I anticipate wrinkles and gray hair. I anticipate the day she will rise and I will finally be by her side and all will be right in the world.
For now, though, the birds are in their nests asleep and I, the moon, have several hours left. But I’ll see her sometime soon.
– Hannah Nemec-Snider
March 2004 – thirteen years old
Dedicated to my sun, my mommy, Allah yarhamhaa…♥