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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=464951" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Mother or Butterfly</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Your soul like a caterpillar, <br>Longed for long to fly, <br>Danced in the air; <br>Transformed into the form<br>Of an unseen butterfly.<br>……<br>Vanished before dawn<br>From everybody's sight, <br>In the haze of a cold Friday night, <br>You played one of your<br>Old tricks, <br>And left, <br>Without much pain, <br>Without saying goodbye.<br>……<br>Your weak and lame body, <br>Could never suppress<br>Your soul that was so high, <br>Wanting to walk, <br>Wanting to talk<br>Were all your wishes<br>For your modest self, <br>Before you walked out.<br>……<br>Yet your hopes for me<br>Were so high and kind; <br>Wanting me to surpass<br>Everything and every human kind.<br>……<br>Simple and so light in everything, <br>You led your humble life, <br>In eating, in dressing, <br>In talking, in joking, <br>As a mother and as a wife.<br>……<br>Strength was to you an attraction, <br>Like fire to a butterfly, <br>Once you see it, <br>You enhance it, <br>And paid for that your life.<br>……<br>The confidence I gained<br>From your words and eyes, <br>Was much deeper<br>Than any solid<br>Gain or prize.<br>……<br>Protection was there for me, <br>Out of love not owning; <br>Was the beautiful feeling<br>Of having someone<br>To support me, like a wall, from behind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Makkah, Jan.<br>1998<br>(from myfirst bilingual book of poety: Women with Wings published in 2003)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Nadia+Abduljabbar">Nadia Abduljabbar</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=464951" data-title="Mother or Butterfly de Nadia Abduljabbar" data-description="Your soul like a caterpillar, 
Longed for long to fly, 
Danced in the air; 
Transformed into the form
Of an unseen butterfly.
……
Vanished before dawn
From everybody's sight, 
In the haze of a cold Friday night, 
You played one of your
Old tric..."></div>
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