I asked for too much.
I asked for things that do not exist anymore.
I asked to be left alone.
I asked to be able to help my son.
To be able to protect him,
feed him and just be with him.
Perhaps I've asked for too much.
Which is why they bombed us.
They killed two at once,
him physically and myself mentally.
I've asked for food and shelter
in my very own house.
but I've asked for too much.
And my little baby paid for all of it
with his tiny heart.
I've asked for too much.
~khadija
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very tragic piece that touches the inner recesses of the reader's heart, bringing tears to one's eyes. An insightful poem bristling with emotion... Am seriously touched by your utmost display of raw passion. May God take control.