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Liverpool Team

Samar supported Liverpool. This advertisement  has been recently placed next to the cemetery were Samar is buried!

Samar's First Trip, 5 May 1988

When I die by Rumi

When I die,
when my coffin
is being taken out,
you must never think

I am missing this world.

Don't shed any tears,
don't lament or
feel sorry

I'm not falling
into a monster's abyss.

When you see
my corpse is being carried,
don't cry for my leaving

I'm not leaving,

I'm arriving at eternal love.

When you leave me
in the grave,
don't say goodbye.

Remember a grave is
only a curtain
for the paradise behind.

You'll only see me
descending into a grave.

Now watch me rise
how can there be an end
when the sun sets or
the moon goes down.

It looks like the end
it seems like a sunset,
but in reality it is a dawn
when the grave locks you up
that is when your soul is freed.

Have you ever seen
a seed fallen to earth
not rise with a new life?

Why should you doubt the rise
of a seed named human?

Have you ever seen
a bucket lowered into a well
coming back empty?

Why lament for a soul
when it can come back
like Joseph from the well.

When for the last time
you close your mouth,
your words and soul
will belong to the world of
no place no time. 

Note: Sent to me by a dear friend.

December 2015

November 2015

ماذا أفعل؟ اعادة نشر

ماذا أفعل ُ وقد ضاعت مني ابنتي الغالية سمـر ؟

بحثت عنها في غرفتها فما وجدت إلا الصور

ناديتها و كان صوتي عاليا ً حتى سمعه الحَجر

بحثت عنها في أرجاء المنزل وفى كل بقعة من الحُجَر

وناديت ثانية و لم أسمع إلا الصمت و الدمع الذي انهمر

من أنادي ليبحث معي، أحمـد أم عمـر أم قـدر ؟

سألت عن حبيبتي، التي قلبي عليها انفطر

سألت عنها الربيع والصيف والشتاء والمطر

 سألت عنها الصباح والليل والشمس والقمر

سألت عنها الشروق و الغروب و البحر

سألت عنها فقالوا " رحلت وأخذها منك القــدر "

ماذا أفعل وقد رحلت صغيرتي، أخت قدر و عمـر؟

 ماذا أفعل وقد أخذت معها البسمة وحلت مكانها العبر

الصبر تصبرت به، الإيمان تبطنت به، ولكنني اشتقت لسمـر

أريد أن أضمها إلى صدري وأقبلها وأهمس في أذنها 

و أن تلمسها يدي وأراها لترى عيوني البصر

"أود لو أصرخ بأعلى صوتي "عودي ياحبيبتي سمـر

لماذا قسوت علي وأخذتها مني أيها القــدر؟

لماذا أخذت أخت و رفيقة قــدر وعمــر؟

لماذا أخذت مني درة بل أثمن الدرر؟

ولكن أذكر ربي الرحمن الذي يبشر الذي صبـر

فأكبت صيحتي وأدعو لها بالرحمة عند رب البشر

وأحمد الله الذي لا يحمد سواه على مكروه أو ضرر

رنده ربحي حماده

"من ديوان "سمر غروب وشروق

٢٠٠٧ 

October 2015

صلاة العيد -اعادة نشر

كنت بين جموع المصلين

وإلى جانبي يا ابنتي تقفين

ولرب العزة معي تسجدين

تسلمي على سيد المرسلين

.وبقدوم العيد إياي تهنئين

أتيت لأنك تريدي أن تؤكدين

بأنك معي أينما حللت تذهبين

وبما أفعل يا حبيبتي تشاركين

.ووحشة العيد دونك، تخففين

،رأيتك ملابس العيد ترتدين

وبأجمل الحلي يا ابنتي تتزينين

وشممت العطر الذي به تطيبين

فأحسست بك... يا أغلى الغاليين

وشعرت بتميزي عن الآخرين

فحبيبة قلبي ترافقني حتى

.وهي عند رب العالمين

©رنده ربحي حماده

  سمر معنا" ٢٠١١"
جميع الحقوق محفوظة للمولفة

Thank you for your thoughtful present.

Il Amaken (Published on Youtube 2008) In Memory of Samar Al Ansari

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sv9kR1T5a20

Your Presence

I felt your presence in my dream

It was so real. I was about to scream.

Although I didn’t see you at all

I heard your voice calming my soul.

Felt your loving embrace and

Your kisses all over my face.

  

You felt the heaviness in my chest,

After your siblings travelled and left.

You knew the sadness I was in

And the longing that penetrates my skin

Dear daughter, don’t leave me and go

The Lord will allow you time, I know.

Tell Him, “My mother’s broken heart

Weakens when she and my siblings part

  

Ask the Lord to prolong your stay

Not only in a dream but all day.”

“Mother, separation causes you pain

But be sure you would see them again.

For now I have to say goodbye

And back to my world fly.

I promise you that I will visit you soon

During the night, morning or noon.

We love you mother that you know

No matter where we are or places we go”.

Randah R. Hamadeh, 2015, Copyright©

Author of Summer Rays: Solace for Bereaved Parents

الشاعر لؤي طه كتب في ذكرى سمر الانصاري التاسعة

نجمة المساء المدللة
كل ليلٍ تغفو على حجر القمر!
وغيمة بيضاء، مفتونة بثوبها
المزركش بحبّات المطر!
وسحابةٌ هي فراشة السماء
تطوف بوشاحها السابح فوق الشجر!
كلهم يغارون مني
لأني في كلِّ أيلول
أصير كعروسٍ أمشط شعري الأسود
ارفع الستائر افتح نافذة روحي وانتظر
صوت الملائكة تناديني:
لكِ زائرةٌ عاشقةٌ أتت إليك يا سمر!
أطير شغفاً إليكِ أعلم أنك أنتِ يا أمي
أمي تنسى الدنيا
ولا تنسى أن الرابع من أيلول
هو موعد الحب، ولحظة اللقاء بسمر!
أُحبُّ طعم الوفاء فيك
كل أيلول وقلبك باذخ النبض بروح سمر!

طفلتك وتوأم قلبك سمر.

My dearest daughter, SAMAR

Nine years have passed since you left this world. Nine long years since I saw your beautiful face, touched your soft skin, heard your warm voice, kissed you and held you in my arms. You may wonder how I survived these long years without you? I am certain that I surprised many who thought at the time that I may not be able to make it after you left us following your accident. They knew how much I loved you then, your brother and sister and that the three of you were my first priority in life. Those nine years were tough but I was able to survive, and continue to love all three of you and my priorities have not waivered.

Reflecting on these nine years, I attribute my survival to several factors. The most important of all is love. My love to you continued as my love never died after your death, in fact it grew deeper. In addition to my love to you, my love for your brother and sister did not allow my loss and sorrow make me forget that I am equally their mother as I am yours and that I should live for them and reaffirm and express my love, even more.

Although I don't see you I feel your presence always. You are with me with every breath I take and constantly in my heart and mind, day and night. I not only feel your presence, but receive signs from you that reassure me that you are beside me wherever I am at all times.

God’s gifted me the power of poetry to help me endure my loss and express my raw feelings over these years. I am ever so thankful for this gift where I communicate with you and express my yearning. The poetry books not only keep your name eternally, they are a source of comfort to bereaved parents especially at the beginning of their grief journey.

 Acknowledging your presence to others, talking about you and keeping your memory alive was vital for my survival. You are my daughter, and I want to mention your name, talk about you and remember you; that is my daily wish.  In our culture mentioning the name of a dead person is frowned upon, and seen as socially inappropriate, when brought up, leading to avoidance by changing the subject. I have defied this attitude and continue acknowledging you as my third child and talk about you when and wherever I wanted to. I also appreciate those who bring up your name including the ones who do it by mistake. The latter are usually embarrassed but I thank them as I am grateful that you are still in their minds.

Your calendar occupies a corner of a desk or a shelf in the home of a relative or friend. People see you every day when they look at the calendar. There are those who look forward to the new calendar each year and anticipate receiving it. This calendar contributed to my survival as it reminds them that you are with us each day of the year.

I feel that I was able to make family, relatives and friends acknowledge that you are present though you are physically gone. The biannual rituals where by I celebrate your birthday and your life help me go through these two difficult days. The family respects my ritual on those two special days and accept my practice.

Keeping your memory alive is an essential part of my existence. Having your website for nine years was a challenge. Although I am the only one posting on it since the last eight years or so, it is still there and is viewed by some. The fact that there are those who check it regularly and resort to it when they miss you, comforts me. The site is also viewed by those who never met you but get to know your story and most importantly, what a wonderful person you were and the impact you left on many.

I look forward to your school awards each year where your name is said out loud. Although it is difficult for me to sit on those chairs and watch the Honor Society students at your school without remembering times I sat there for you and for your brother and sister before you, I still feel good being there when your name is mentioned in your school twice a year, once for the Economics Award and the second for the Football Award. I am most proud when they speak about you and equally proud to give awards in your name. The awards are a recognition that your memory goes on. Few of the teachers who know you are still at school but none of the students. That’s how they have the chance to know who you are. I would think that many would have wished to know you since you were a special student who excelled academically and in extracurricular activities.

Your palm tree stands proud at the entrance of your school. It grew over the years.  I feel that you are happy that we planted this tree at your school where you spent most of your days. I am sure that the tree feels very special having your name next to it. The bench in your school library that has your name engraved on it keeps library visitors aware that that you existed and makes them wonder who this Samar Al Ansari was.

You had written about home, “To get to know me, and I mean real me, you must provide home for me first”, and I say dear daughter, “ To be my friend, my true friend, you have to acknowledge that my daughter is alive in my heart and mind as she lives with me as long as I live”.

Love,

Mama

4/9/2015

Excepts from I'm Calling You

Excerpts from "Your Sister is Here"

September 2015

لماذا تخشين دموعي؟

لماذا يا ابنتي تخشين دموعي؟

هي تنهمر من حيث لا أدري عند الخشوع

لربي و رب محمد وموسى ويسوع

متضرعة اليه باكية بصوت مسموع

راجية منه أن يخفف من هذا الروع

بات قلبي بعد رحيل اختك مخلوع

معلق  بين السماء وبين الضلوع

لا تخافي علي حبيبتي فالبكاء مشروع

اشتقت لاختك التي ذهبت دون رجوع

.ولو أطلقت العنان لدموعي لانفجر الينبوع

رنده ربحي حماده

جميع الحقوق محفوظة للمؤلفة© 2015