Tell My Daughter Poem by Hawla Riza

Tell my daughter,
that she came bearing silver lines with woolen dreams,
and while others admired her coal black eyes,
I secretly smiled,
at hints of defiance I saw in her eyes.

Tell my daughter,
that her raven shined curls are simply magnificent,
and the first time she screamed the zeal of a three-year old,
I let it wash over me,
praying that her voice always carries.

Tell my daughter,
that her name stands for grit,
and when I call her Hajar, it reverberates,
with ringing bells and thunder roars, all at once.

Tell my daughter,
that my love for her is a fleeting meadow she must flee from, fervently picking up scraps and pieces.
Even if I sob, she MUST go.

Tell my daughter,
that she must weave happiness,
on her own woolen accords,
as I pray it's as far-fetched,
as her neon colored gown.

Tell my daughter,
that she will one day sit,
pouring love from a broken crevice,
to her very own,
and be overwhelmed with forgiveness,
-for me.

Tell my daughter,
that while I wipe all slates clean,
I refuse to forgive anyone,
who dare hurt her,
and that's water under the bridge,
-I'll drown in.