Lesson From the Seamstress

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My faith did not teach me to hate

My faith did not teach me to doubt

But I did both

Clouding my mind 

With unjust prejudices

Shrouding my heart

With unnecessary misgivings

When she smiled at me

I shied away, veiling myself

In curtains of aloofness...

But oft did I see from my window

Her bent head

Busy in stitching

She weaved clothes

While I spun suspicion....

You get what you give

I had heard that I know not how many times

But what I gave, she gave me not

And what she gave I refused to return

Her friendly gaze met my fake smile

Her amicable waves went unnoticed

Yet she persisted....

Yet I resisted....

Time passing by

I bloomed in health

Ready for things to come

Ready for a life

While her window was now ornate

With her beautiful creations

Which I admired

But acknowledged not

She was a seamstress 

Weaving magic on fabric

And what was I?

Oh ruthless me

What was I doing all that time

Disregarding and dubious

Locked up in twisted thoughts.....

It would have gone on like that

Had she not broken the ice

With a token of love

With a little gift of friendship....

That day when my window

Declared to the world

The arrival of my new-born

With a pink balloon

She came with a pink dress

Stitched for her unborn daughter

Who could not be born anymore

A dress she had stitched with much love

Her first ever dress 

For her only daughter now no more...

She gave it to me since my daughter was born

On the same day as hers was expected to come

A year ago...

It seemed like a sign

Her faith told her so....

What she gave was not just a gift

It was a re-birth for me

My mind released from restraining animosity

Freed

Unchained at last

I asked her why

Why... when I did what I did to her

(Yes, I could hold it no more

I confessed it all)

She said she was used to it

Many times in many places

Questioning glances, suspecting stares

Talks behind her back

All because she came from a different faith....

But she knew she could change it

Little by little

One by one

With love, with smiles

Her father had taught her so

We were all prejudiced puppets

Living in slumber

Dancing drowsy dances

Worshiping hollow faiths

With more than hollow hearts

She wanted to shake that torpor

With gentle vibrations of love

She wanted to rouse, to enliven

Those numb and frozen feelings

With ripples of affection....

I stood silenced

But at peace with myself

Liberated at last

Breathing fresh air

After ages it seemed

With an open and receptive heart....

She had learnt her lessons well

I learnt mine too that day

From the seamstress next door....

Unfettered and unburdened...

Hate weighs heavy on the mind and spirit

Faith, true faith, relies on love

It teaches not antipathy

It teaches not contempt

It endorses embrace

Towards one and all

It judges not 

By how one looks

It disapproves not 

Those who come from a place

Different from yours

True faith is the faith of love and respect

It binds, not divides

It integrates differentiation

It isolates not

The lesson from the seamstress

I will never forget.....

Linking it to Day 4 of Write Tribe Festival of Words # 5