Madrasa Mothers – poetry by Dr Ali
Madrasa Mothers
Death from hunger
Slow but certain.
Or a boy’s life saved
Behind a mullah’s curtain.
A murder in the street.
Or a son lost to toxic meat.
The options determine
The madrasa mother’s choice
The answer delivered
In quivering words without voice.
Whose son vanished
In the fires he lit?.
Who lingered,
In the roulette he hit?
Madrasa mothers know not,
Mullahs don’t do well
The death ceremony bit.
Who is blown up?
Who lives?
Whose number is up next?
Allah knows best.
Madrasa mothers do not wait up
For the sordid fest.
What is a jihadist’s mind?
A political pundit asks.
Who is the suicide kind?
An intellectual tasks.
Kill them there, not here,
A security freak blasts.
Where are the derelicts mothers?
A preacher taunts.
Worlds apart,
In the parallel universe,
How will they converse?
A Jeffersonian sage
Pontificating on his lofty rung
And
A dazed woman, her son obliterated,
A Madrasa mom staring at cow dung.