The Train

They were chubby cheeked girls
On their way back from the History Museum
'Everybody is a little fat , just a teeny
Weeny bit fat , even me'
I wondered how many years till
She'd cut lines onto that same waist
That they poked so playfully
Her mother stroking fingers through curled hair
Dyed blue straightened towards an inch of
Her life could change so rapidly
Those wide eyes lined black
No more woolly hats
She'd wear short shorts in the rain

Don't cry You shouldn't cry on trains

He almost had a beard
She was covered save face
It was so strange for I
Couldn't quite believe that 
Leather gloves could touch so readily

They were on stage
And this world was a screen
Illusionary

Despite the raw grief
To lecture them you would
have to shout across the seats
Humiliation is not sincerity But please,
Again , don't cry.

They read books, play games on phones
But when their man made signal goes
How will they know
Which way is home?



Every soul will taste death, and you will only be given your [full] compensation on the Day of Resurrection. So he who is drawn away from the Fire and admitted to Paradise has attained [his desire]. And what is the life of this world except the enjoyment of delusion.

3:185

'The Deen (religion) is naseehah (advice/sincerity)'. We said 'To whom?' He said 'To ALLAH and His Book, and His Messenger, and to the leaders of the Muslims and their common folk.'
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