After a long day, I sit on the sofa
And lay my head on my father’s chest
It makes me feel like I am young again
And with a sudden lurch, my mind goes to the story of Sakina
At half my age, she lost everything she knew Her father, Husayn, killed in battle
Her brothers and uncles sacrificed for Islam Her mother torn with grief
And we tell stories about her courage and faith
But, once, she was a little girl
Who lay on her father’s chest just like I did to be filled with comfort
I can’t help but think of how many other little girls
Are alone tonight without a father to wish them goodnight
How many children are crying themselves to sleep
Without a parent to comfort their fears
If you close your eyes and take your heart to Iraq
Can you hear Sakina calling her for her father, Asking him to come back to her, or is that the cry of another orphan who we are called to help?
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