Saturday, August 31, 2019

Daddy & Apology to My Father

Quran 17:23: “Your Lord has decreed that you worship none but Him, and that you be kind to parents. Whether one or both of them attain old age say not to them a word of contemptnor repel them, but address them in terms of honour.’ 
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Salaam All...Here's the newest brochure titled DADDY. Please share it with all your contacts. Thank you.
"Children will not remember you for the material things you provided, but for the feeling that you cherished them. Unfortunately, some fathers have poor relationships with their children. There is a lack of dialogue, tenderness & affection."

And accompanying it is this spoken word poem by a young girl, Sakila, called APOLOGY TO MY FATHER. It's so brilliant. This moving poem bridges the divide between generations of immigrants. If you're in America then read it to your father...it will cut so deep that he will begin to cry.
Apology to My Father | Sakila Islam | TEDxDetroit


Shamal...Before I end this mail I want to thank those teachers who acted as a mother or father to my son. THANK YOU!!! For those who treated him harshly maybe one day your consciences will make you pen a poem titled APOLOGY TO MY SON.   
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Now study these words...

Apology to My Father, by Sakila Islam

My father has the pride of a thousands suns
The kind of pride that leaks out of him as he walks
The kind of pride that radiates from him as he talks
The kind of pride that’s so bright that I can’t even look him in the eyes sometimes

My father’s pride is as deep as the ancient green forests behind his Bangladeshi home and as strong as the rigid jackfruit trees that stand tall even during the monsoon season floods.

And that’s why I know that he will never accept my apologies.

Dear father,
You came to this country with only the clothes on your back and the hopes and dreams of your family in your pocket
Hopes and dreams so heavy that they weighed you down with every step you took, putting so much pressure on you that you kneeled to the ground in prayer time and time again
I’m sorry that this country will not accept you

I’m sorry that your skin is too brown, too similar to dirt to be worth anything, 
if anything it’s only good for their cheap labor

I’m sorry your English is too broken, like jagged shards of glass—maybe they’re too afraid of cutting themselves on your sentence fragments so they clench their fists full of insults before even getting to know you

I’m sorry your faith is too strong, that it’s become a threat to the people around you. Instead of realizing how beautiful your voice sounds coming from the minaret of a mosque, they silence your needs and turn a deaf ear to your problems

It’s been two decades since my father came here, and he’s begun swallowing his pride like diabetes pills

Doctor’s orders: be unseen, unheard. Unless you were born in this country, you’ll always have second priority while sitting in the waiting room

But my father’s sight has gone bad from turning a blind eye to the people who mock him so many times, that he can’t even read the fine print on his prescription.

Maybe that’s why he takes a little too much, overdosing on becoming a pushover, in a society that has no problems pushing him over the edge, 

father

I’m sorry

I’m sorry I’m writing a poem to you in a language you’ll never fully understand

I’m sorry I don't even have the ability to properly tell you how much I love you because they didn't teach me your mother tongue in the school I was adopted into

I’m sorry this country is such a cruel lover to you, binding you to it with blackmail

I know you’re only in this destructive relationship for the sake of your children

And your children, with one foot in America and the other in Bangladesh, know you can’t fight a war when you’re standing at the border

So when people fire insults, they follow in your footsteps, overdosing on silence

Swallowing the pride of a thousand suns, and becoming shadows that can only carry

Apologies

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