LUMA NOOR

She was never a mere admirer of my affection,

Nor did she ever grow weary or grow distant.

Through every tempest, every sorrow,

She stood unwavering—intimately acquainted with my suffering.

Even in the dimmest glimmers of light, upon glimpsing me,

She gave far more than she ever reserved for herself.

In her embrace, I discovered the sanctity of a mother’s warmth,

As the earth basks beneath the tender caress of the sun.

She bestowed upon me the finest years of her life—

Her luminous, irreplaceable youth.

And to this day, not once has she paused

To lament the silent burdens she bore with grace.

She cradled the love of the world within her lap,

Then offered me its purest joy,

Tucking it gently within the folds of her veil.

Through searing heat, relentless rain, and biting frost,

She relinquished thought of herself,

Each time I became the axis of her world.

She nourished me, morsel by morsel,

Guiding me through vast realms conjured in story.

Beneath the shelter of her love, amidst the breeze of her scarf,

She lulled me to slumber,

As though I drifted upon clouds in celestial dreams.

All the treasures of this earth—even Alexander’s gold—

Pale beside a single moment she gave me.

Such was the life, the legacy, my mother bestowed.