Hear me, my son

(A poem written to my sons and all men. Presented at Irtiqa Magazine’s Rise Above Abuse Workshop)


Yours is not a hand unless it holds to guide, not strike

Yours is not an eye unless it looks with kindness, not anger

Yours is not a leg unless it walks with purity of intention, not to kick

Yours is not a tongue unless it speaks of love, not abuse

Yours is not a lip unless it smiles with tenderness, not disgust

Yours is not a finger unless it points within, not accusingly

Yours is not a heart unless it beats to uplift and nurture, not to instil terror


Hear me, my son


You are not a man unless you live your hu-MAN-ity