girlie

My Lord blessed me with Ghada, Asiya and Noura, and they give me the beautiful face of life. 
Love, kindness and tenderness, and there is no life for a person without a heart that yearns, rejoices and feels, and they are the true extension of that warm origin to which I owe, after my Lord, thanks and gratitude, the shady Doha that embraced me and surrounded me with its feelings, and gave me a lot of its life, soul, blood and language, and did not I would have found the taste of hope, contentment and beauty, had it not been for the grace of God upon me to belong to the school of the great mother.
I saw her tears one day, so I chanted to her:
Mother, mother, eyes, eyes, mother, mother, heaven, heaven
You did not disappear from my sight, for your face is in front of me.. I see it with my own eyes
You wipe away pain with tears. I care how sorrows are erased with sorrows.
If we know the names of the wives of the Prophet - may God bless him and grant him peace - and his daughters, his mother, his custodian, his midwife, and his wet nurse, why are we ashamed of mentioning the names of our mothers, wives, and daughters..?
Why are we ashamed of someone seeing us walking beside them in a street, market, or travel?
And how long will we keep making beautiful introductions about women's rights and their status in Islam, then fail in their small daily field applications in the home, school, market, and mosque?