When the homeland becomes a tree full of living fruits, its institutions become the abode of bottles, a shelter for eyes that have a tear of sadness at the tip, and a habitat for the fierceness of hearts torn apart by separation, exhausted by schism, oppressed by injustice, tired by grievance, or afflicted by hardship.
This is the Dubai Foundation for the Welfare of Women, casting shadows of affection, on the heads of which were inflamed by the suns of stubbornness and puritanism, and whose herbs were burned by volcanoes of misery, misery, abomination, and understatement.
A woman in whose arms sons and daughters emerge, and she who grows on its outskirts the ears of the present and the trees of tomorrow, deserves to be in the cradle of care, care, protection, and know-how, she deserves to have this inclusion filled with love filled with the fragrance of warmth, she deserves to be between Blinking and blinking, a glint and not a tear, deserves to be in the coat of feelings, flexible and not sad, the woman is the still, the moving is the firm, and the transformer is in the heart of any society. Marginalized creatures vanish, and when the cloud closes its eyes on the desert terrain, the trunks of the tallest are bent, the branches of the Bassat slack, the ravines and valleys are desertified, and the distillation attempts fail miserably, where the woman is the pouring, and she is the hump, she is the gain, the clusters are the wet, the woman in history is Bilqis. And in geography, Umm Raoum, whose sources do not dry up for any reason, the earth is saddled with loads of misery, the forelocks groan from an avalanche of stupidity, and the dormant people remain on the ground as if they are ropes.
The woman that the Dubai Foundation for Women’s Care is responsible for defending her rights, embracing them, deflecting harm from her, and stopping distress and distress from her shoulders, is the mother, sister, wife, and beloved woman, she is the embryo that runs in the convolutions of existence, and she is Eve who bloomed Adam’s fields And she became addicted to the vigil over his cradle, and gave him love molten with milk of deliverance from perdition. She is that woman, if a man complains of an organ, she falls to him with sleeplessness and fatigue, responding to the cry of God, responding to groans, with a heart full of kindness and kindness, and from her age she gives him life, and from her prime she gives him youth. And from her beauty she gives him an entity, and from her joy she injects him with happiness, for all that the woman deserved all this dedication and sacrifice, as a fidelity from this capable institution, and belonging to the homeland of great love.