A poem from my daughter

36739827_1717827578264252_466539864750292992_o.jpgToday’s post is by our guest blogger, Raihana – my daughter:

Every day I have to write a paragraph. Today I chose to write a story on the picture story panels in the wordless picture book Story Worlds: Nature, by Thomas Hegbrook, but the story turned out to be more poetic than story.

So, without further ado, I present to you all:


The Beating Heart of Nature


I am a bird who waits.

I wait for my mate.

I wait for sticks for my nest.

I wait for the chance to build the cozy home which will house much of my family.

My mate arrives with greeting chirps.

I still have much to wait for.

As a hedgehog I sniff.36656107_1717827468264263_3923706667916591104_o

Forward I go.

Into the clump of leaves.

I feel intense, calming feelings of temporary comfort as I sink into the orange, crimson, and golden leaves. Temporary safety.

But not for long.

Onwards, trotting along the paths I’ve trod hundreds of times.

Being myself a mole, I fear the light.

My vision is poor.

Predators are everywhere.

But I must leave my cozy hole, to get more leaves for my bedding.

It will be quick.

Now, as I stand a whole foot from my home, I must do this.

But still I fear.

I am a caterpillar, dreaming of beautiful orange wings.

Two months more in my green, vulnerable form.

I am a butterfly, soaring through the sky, dreaming of my upcoming migration to the south.

I see a caterpillar on a branch and remember my fearful days in that body.

I am a squirrel, jumping gracefully, branch to branch.

I am a toad, hopping splashily through my pond.

I am a snail, moving sluggishly, leaving slime, with lofty dreams of flying.

We are the earth, in all its glory, from tree to horse to woodpecker to boar to lady bug to pigeon to dandelion, living, breathing, each with a sparkling, shining, blindingly beautiful fragment of Allah* inside us.


By Raihana

July 3, 2018


* God



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