by Abdullah X
A letter from our mother to each and every one of us, sent with nothing but love.
I hope this letter comes to you in good health. I wish nothing more than for you to read these words with pristine vision and clarity of mind; purity of soul and passion of heart.
I write to tell you of my worry about you all of late. I often stay up late at night, praying to the Heavens for its light to shine on you. I hope the sunlight that coats me coats you. What mother deserves a light that her children cannot receive?
I hope the foods that I have prepared are enough. Every cell was tendered to your taste – I know how you and your siblings like it, so please do take care to choose what pleasures you and leave some for them. I know how hard it is for you to share, but know I have no favorite among you; I love you all, and there is no river between either of you – I love my children in due proportion.
I know that it is hard. My faithful angels, the birds, tell me of your squabbles. I cannot tell you how proud I am of you all building such magnificent things – the roofs that touch near the skies or the words that travel in but the blow of the wind. How beautiful your minds are, my children! I know how hard it is for you when I weep, so I shall not, but if I do, know it is of joy and pride. But there is a sadness in my heart. Why, my children, do you kill among yourselves?
It is like young ones to fight and bleed, but why do you desire death among yourselves? Did I not make you all? Did I not bathe you, clothe you, kiss you, and nurse you when you were weak? My heart breaks at the jealousy, the greed, and hatred that you feel for your brothers and sisters. Over the years, I have carefully built this world for you that you may have my presence near and the comfort to know that you are never too far from me. That you may have space of your own and a way to live that is beautiful and pure.
When I feel the blood of my children fall upon me, my veins run dry with the same blood that was taken from them. I know some of you are afraid, timid of one another. I have always tried to have even but a whisper from my lips to your ears, for am I always there and patiently wanting to listen. The wind is my voice and the stars are my ears. Oh, how I love you all.
But from what I have built, there is enough for all therein. There is not one who cannot, by patient sacrifice, help his aching brethren. But I know some of my children fear and I cry for their fear. For if I can do battle with fear for you, I would vanquish it so you can rest easy in the love of your Mother.
But I know these negative demons prey on you. I see the tears behind the walls, in the furs of where you lie, and I weep with you. Indeed, your mother weeps much. But if only I could hold the ones that feel that by the dark pulls they are alone, I would never let them go out of fear of them feeling pain again. Oh, my beautiful children, please know how beautiful you are. I yearn to see you smile and I laugh as you laugh. The roses, the lakes, the shimmering dews that give you peace – I joy at doing so. Breathe my breath and know peace.
But worry is an incessant monster, no? I worry also as to how you will care for yourselves when I am no more. Indeed, I have lived a long life, but I know that my provisions are but a time away from their end. Nothing eases this worry more than when I see you in your brilliance take from what I have given you. Your siblings worry over me, but dear children, worry not at my state for what happens. I am here for you and only you. All of you. I know with such a family as we, there are bound to be strands of strain and fragments of fatigue, but please remember that you are all family. If nothing else, remember that.
Therefore, I ask that if you must destroy me in the search for salvation, then let the fruits of my labor be what help you in that quest. Let it not be detrimental to any one of you. Care for another, for you are each other – a mirror of your own souls. Be sure to be healthy and if in later time, the breath you breathe be other than mine, I pray it better than what I could offer. As my children become more, my age decreases and I come nearer to death. Be not afraid of the future, for I have raised you strong. Use what I have given you and even my whole self in the pursuit of your own love of life. What better thing can a mother say she has done except helped her children do that – by body and soul, by her love?
Can I say it enough? How Mother loves you all, each every and one of you. I ask you not to hate each other over such small differences. Know that you all were bore in the same womb. You have shared equal birth and so too will you share equal death. Guide your future brothers and sisters with what knowledge I have passed on, however little. And if you should use me until I no longer exist among you in every aspect of your lives, I pray you one thing: do not forget me and do not forget how I loved you so. Nay, how I’ll always love you, my children.