Shining Morocco

An old man in his Jellaba*, in his arms holding his grandchild,
Walking under a blazing sun, springtime, so warm, yet mild.
They reminisce about the terrorist acts of religion bashing bigots,
Who under false claims aim to seize powers no democracy allots.
Acting with indifference to the religious teachings they preach,
Filled with envy, exploiting poverty, hatred is what they teach.
The man looks at the young lad with eyes full of tenderness,
Tells him of old times people’s hearts were filled with kindness.
A tear escapes his eye as he tells the child about laughter,
About a beautiful Morocco whose children loved one another.
Times have changed; intolerance found its way to the hearts
Of those who aim at the soul of Morocco with poisonous darts.
The child cannot comprehend how such anger can exist
Why terrorists driven against their people; with the devil enlist
The land of his ancestors he would like to defend and uphold,
Against those extremists whose hearts have grown so cold.
The elder evokes memories of his own long forgotten childhood
When people of all walks of life did not fear for their livelihood.
He lost a son to the first attacks that took from his heart a piece.
Truly, you can bomb the world into pieces but not into peace.
He talks to his orphan grandchild about tolerance and love
Two concepts we forget; yet we long to find and often speak of
“Son”, he says, “learn to love others and accept their differences,
The way to harmony lies within you, do not forego your chances”
A wrinkled smile lies in the corner of his mouth; he’s thoughtful
He holds such strong love for the next generation; so he’s hopeful
He wants his grandchild to learn from life and be educated
He also wishes that his granddaughters will be emancipated.
With a weak voice, he says some prayers for you and me,
Hoping for a better future for Morocco, shining endlessly!

Zainabest


*: Jellaba is a Moroccan attire. Just FYI for my Non Moroccan friends who may not be familiar with it. Check picture.