Before the world loved me

BEFORE THE WORLD LOVED ME

A daughter's tribute to her father -by Amal_Ash

If someone asked me where my safest place had been,

I’d speak of two strong arms that held me through thick and thin.

Of someone who could read my silence, even when I smiled,

And somehow still could see the little girl within his child.

I never saw the battles waiting at his door,

I never knew how often he worried, carrying more.

I only knew that when I asked, somehow, things came to be,

I didn’t know the cost of every “Don’t you worry, leave it to me.”

My father never wore a crown, yet made me feel like royalty;

He gave me more than gifts could hold, more than the eyes could see.

He looked at me as though the world had painted something rare,

And when I doubted what I was, he made me feel beyond compare.

He calls me beautiful so freely, like the sun must rise each day,

As though no mirror has the right to tell me otherwise.

And maybe I am beautiful, but what I treasure most of all

Is that the man who first saw worth in me still loves me through it all.

But, Baba, if I told your story, where would I begin?

With all the things you gave me, or the battles fought within?

With every time you bought my wants when money wasn’t kind,

Or every time you hid your worries so I’d leave them far behind?

You’ve reached into your very last and somehow made it grow,

Turned “There’s nothing left” to “Take it, dear,” so I would never know.

You’ve made a way with little, made a little feel like plenty,

While I was busy counting blessings, never knowing they were many.

I thought the things I asked for simply found their way to me;

I never saw the sacrifice behind their mystery.

I never saw the calculations, what you’d have to put aside,

Or how you made my happiness the place your worries went to hide.

And what undoes me most is this: your love is not just mine.

You give to children not your own, though little’s left sometimes.

You open up your hands to them, give freely what you can,

And every time, I see the kind of heart that makes you more than just a man.

You could be tired, short of money, carrying the weight of ten,

Yet still find room to help somebody struggling again.

You teach me that a wealthy heart needs no overflowing purse;

Sometimes the poorest hands give more than all the world’s wealth first.

And when my world grows heavy, when I cannot hide my tears,

You somehow make the room feel safe and quiet all my fears.

You may not always have the words to make the hurt depart,

But somehow, just by being there, you put peace back in my heart.

You’re overprotective, yes, sometimes I roll my eyes,

Not knowing every warning holds a fear you never advertise.

One day, I’ll understand the things that make you ask me where,

And know each “Be careful” carries love disguised as care.

And when I’ve wronged you, when my stubbornness has won,

You find a way to forgive me before the day is done.

I wonder how a heart can hold such patience through it all,

How I can make mistakes and still be met with love, not walls.

Perhaps I’ve grown accustomed to the shelter that you give,

To thinking fathers simply love this way, and sacrifice to live.

Perhaps I’ve called it normal when you put me first again,

Not knowing some would give the world to have a love like mine to claim.

And that is what breaks my heart: I cannot give your years back.

I cannot lift the younger you from every burden on your back.

I cannot pay you for the nights you lay awake with fear,

Or count the silent sacrifices that have brought me safely here.

I cannot make you young again or stop time in its flight,

Cannot repay each hidden tear or every sleepless night.

But if Allah grants me many years and makes my dreams come true,

I pray that I become a source of peace and joy for you.

May Allah reward the things no human eye has seen,

The times you chose my happiness when life was far from easy.

May He protect your health, forgive your faults, and keep your heart at rest,

And grant you Jannatul Firdaus, for you have given me your best.

And if someday I stand before the dreams I’m working for,

If I become the woman you have prayed and hoped me for,

I’ll know I never walked alone, no matter where I roam;

I carried all your love with me, because you made my heart a home.

And should the day come when I’m older, with a child upon my knee,

Perhaps I’ll finally understand the love you poured on me.

Perhaps I’ll hear your voice again in all the words I say,

And love someone the way you did, by giving more each day.

But, Baba, there is one thing I wish time would let me do:

Let me go back to every day I took for granted you.

Let me hug you just a little longer, tell you what I should have said,

Let me thank you for the life you built while carrying your own dread.

Because before the world could praise me, you believed in me.

Before I knew what I was worth, you helped me learn to see.

Before I had a single crown, you called your daughter queen;

Before the world could love me, you loved all I had been.

So if they ask me who has loved me in a way no words can show,

I’ll tell them of the man whose love was there before I’d even know.

The man who gave when he had little, whose heart made plenty out of small;

The man who tried to catch my tears before they had the chance to fall.

And if I ever write a thousand poems, searching for a way to say

How much your love has shaped my heart and guides me every day,

I fear that every word will fail, that none will quite come through,

For I was loved before the world knew what I’d become.

I was cherished before I had a name worth calling out.

I was somebody’s whole world before I knew the world at all.

Before the world loved me, Baba…

I had already been loved by you. 🤍

— Amal_Ash