The Letter
*
Assad,
It is tough for me to think of you as a product of a biochemical blissful event, a distinct moment in time.
Should I have sniffed the life out of you the moment I held you in my arms?
The pain, the struggle that I went through to bring you here, yes, I should have known better.
Look in the mirror and read my words aloud.
See, where one of the greatest sins, Greed, has gotten you?
My eyes are wet and I have failed as a mother, but this burqa will fool you.
For your aversive tribute to your childhood and the love we seemed to share.
A new mother will be grateful for the lessons you teach her;
The case study of how not to raise a son.
The only place left for you to be a hero, a man, is the bedroom.
But then, I have taken Asma’s word for it, for you are her batta.
You have now succeeded in raping every child’s view of a beautiful and peaceful world.
In the words of an unequivocal teenager, “You suck!”
I do not wish to poison you, because I pray each day for your extreme violent death.
Remember, I am a strong mother, history will tell you I have survived the loss of a child.
And to go down in narratives as the woman behind the Syrian revolt, I will, if I have to.
My end seems to be nearer, my neck will snap as my head hangs in shame.
Yours truly,
Ummi..
*
Assad says in an interview with ABC: “….No government in the world kills its people, unless it’s led by a crazy person…..”
* * *
About The Article Author:
Our mission with FutureSTRONG Academy – to grow children who respect themselves, their time and their capabilities in a world where distractions are just a click or a swipe away.
I see myself as an advocate for bringing social, emotional and character development to families, schools and communities. I never want to let this idea out of my sight – Our children are not just GPAs. I’m a Writer and a Certified Master Coach in NLP and CBT. Until 2017, I was also a Big Data Scientist. In December of 2044, I hope to win the Nobel. Namasté.
Write to me or call me. Tell me what support from me looks like.
Rachana Nadella-Somayajula,
Program Director & Essential Life Skills Coach for Kids and Busy Parents
Poetry
Perceiving My Anthropology
* I don't know what moves him.I remember the day he came back home tohide his red eyes behind that newspaperafter he lit his mother's pyre.This is the man, the brunt of all my emotions,whose lifetime fits in this poem. It's mostly the appalling nature of...
To My Estranged One
* Ok, I admit; I still have that shameful longingness.When you gathered everything else up and left me to myself, And, when the war of words ended, It was clear that the love between us had begun to show cracks.It would never happen to me, was the conviction I...
Yours Singularly
* Always close by my side, he mocks me.Calling the lack of endearment around me,self-inflicted.Late in the afternoon, at work,“All these people around you need you tobreak their bread”, he mulls. At the bar,he demands to knowwhy I hadn't invited myself to her...
Still Standing, Still Standing..
* The below is a first person account of a village tree who lost the friendship of a small boy to the big charm of the city.. * At day break, I wait for your shrill cries of laughter to pierce my ears..I ponder while I drink the primary cocktail,a...
Dear Sons: Full Disclosure
* A life's worth of choices. Subjected to, day in, day out.Freedom of expression. Empathy exercises. Vulnerability followed by weakness. Protection from cold. Letting the homeless die from it. Health of the children. Love. A gentle kind word. People who didn't...
Now – A Poem on Time
* Of all the things I have and can desire to have, my time on this earth, and the time my kids will have of mine is finite. I am mindful of that. What I am also painfully mindful is that I do not choose well how I spend it. As an adult, time and the freedom to...
Child Bearers of the World
* Distracted mothers create loneliness.Those children celebrate uncertainty.And out of the imperfect first steps,They quickly thrive and learn, no love is earnest. Fathers cry when planes disappear.Worlds unite to search the heavens and oceans.Nothing...
Tea Rings
* There is the love of mother that needs no senses to feel its expression.And, that’s where I begin my journey of this life with you. In that vintage picture, I think of how you became a woman coming of age.Wounds of the uprooting I haven’t seen yet, or...
Temples in Our Hearts
* While others make smoldering burial grounds in memory,those who have never made promises to make us laughhave their own temples in our hearts. Stories that don’t need our mother’s tongue to be told better,are these secret wishes that transcend cultures and...
Retribution?!?!
* If I knocked on your door for a cup of waterfor my parched throat,Would you be able to tell,I am not your next door neighbor..? If not, then, why this thirst for my life.. ???? * Near these foothills,of some of the world's coldest mountains..I...
I Can Muse a Poem
* The mother inside of me finds no shortage of spontaneity and wit.I can be surprisingly superfluous when I am lecturing my child. Trouble arrives when I call myself a writer, and that’s when I get deliberate.When I dictate myself to the writer’s rigor,...
Pathos.. A Poem On Caring For The Elderly
* The mornings hang here, until..I peek out of the window andhurry out of the house for the next door.. Determined to find an answer..I gently turn the key andpush myself into the hallway.. Moving past discolored leaves and curtains..I pass them, a lot of...
Homs and The Uncharismatic Sociopath..
* * For anyone not in need of soul searching or a mirror.. Here is the gist of the mother's letter.. * Assad.. It is tough for me to think of you as a product of a biochemical blissful event, a distinct moment in time.. Should I...
The Wishing Well and An Empty Tummy
* © MColdPlay's 'Hungry Child' @ Deviantart * I call my boss and tell him,I won't be in until late.Over a crisp morning coffee I work out logistics. I plot the distance between school and home.. 500 yards..I aim for taking cover.While setting up my...
Osama, hermit you are not.. Love Teresa
* * Dear Osama, Even in this 21st century, with super fast technology, it took me a while to get in touch with you, and it has been partly because of your tight security and lack of information on the internet on where you are hiding, er, living....
Like a Dry Flower in My Diary
* She would rise andshine with me.. She would part with anything for methat I loved or desired.. Today, she might be a woman,but just between us, there is no time travel.. Her gentle, sweet,kind spirit wasn't a match for my boisterous self.. But my partner in...
An Affair With Vanity
* The excitement is mutual,the passion contagious.The play of his naughty hands,the smile on my lips.The smell of his breath,the kiss on my feet.The tingling down into his toes,the long black hair on my slithering spine.Smiles with the mirror in the morning,...
Melancholy
* I haven't seen more life than what you have shown me..Anything larger than life was you anyway.. I would turn to you when I was cheerful or had something to share..I would look for your love when I had my daughters to care.. Waiting eagerly for you to come...
Questions, just ask!
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About The Article Author:
Our mission with FutureSTRONG Academy – to grow children who respect themselves, their time and their capabilities in a world where distractions are just a click or a swipe away.
I see myself as an advocate for bringing social, emotional and character development to families, schools and communities. I never want to let this idea out of my sight – Our children are not just GPAs. I’m a Writer and a Certified Master Coach in NLP and CBT. Until 2017, I was also a Big Data Scientist. In December of 2044, I hope to win the Nobel. Namasté.
Write to me or call me. Tell me what support from me looks like.
Rachana Nadella-Somayajula,
Program Director & Essential Life Skills Coach for Kids and Busy Parents