Safety is Elusion.

My Dada is Delusional

My Dada is delusional,

He thinks the world is round, rotational, spherical,

He thinks to find safety here,

So he lays down ten thousand foundations for high soaring,

For safety...

My Dada is delusional,

He said to me, when you get rich milad,

Don't go home, my people are bad,

My Dada is delusional,

He thinks of safety...

My Dada is delusional,

So when I wake him up each morning,

I ask him,

Dada, what if you had passed on in your sleep?

And up! From his bed he leaps!

My Dada is delusional,

So when he talks of safety,

I ask him,

Am I safe Dada,

If I am alive and my name is not in the book of life?

Am I safe if my door's loophole is wide enough to hold

scorpions, centipedes, and all crawling evils,  stealthy enough to take my life in my sleep?

Am I safe,

If the armed robber has arms to scale through the fence?

What is safety,

If he is armed with all sorts of talismen to show up in the house bypassing five gate men?

What is safety if he can scale through our top notch security defence?

What is safety,

If like Liverpool I am advised to never walk alone...?

What is safety Dada,

If America and Russia are still moulding those cataclysmic war drones?

What is safety,

If my mosquito treated net is but a conquered mosquito nest?

What is safety,

If my name is 'God with us'?

Talk of safety Dada,

But tell me,

If my next journey to Timbuktu,

Will lend me a safe return too...

Am I safe,

If my existence has no essence,

If I am not always in my heavenly father's presence?

My Dada went to bed

And never returned,

Perhaps he didn't have the answer to my query...

Do you?

If you do,

What then is safety if you yourself are not safe?

®Steward of Words