This is the story that’s written in time
Of our mother and against her a crime
This is the tragedy of Fatima Zahra… this is the tragedy of Fatima Zahra
* * *
This mother… let me tell you what once befell this mother
They’d smother… the unborn child within her, they’d smother
They’d smother… they’d smother, take him away from this mother
This mother… left to rock an empty cradle this mother
The love of her heart, from her womb taken
A blossomed womb became cold and barren
She felt and saw this child fall from within her… this is the tragedy of Fatima Zahra
* * *
A part… Muhammad’s part of her, of him she’s a part
Apart… after his death, she felt from his worlds apart
Apart… she complains to his grave how she’s torn apart
A part… and a part of her desires her murder
She longs for her death as she longs for him
She sits there daily and sings him a hymn
How much they oppressed me after you O’ father… this is the tragedy of Fatima Zahra
* * *
Set of light… the house of Fatima was a set of light
Set alight… the house angels visited was set alight
Sat, a light… the house in which she prayed and she sat, a light
Set alight… set alight, in the flames she called for Haider
The house to which a thousand angels turned
She stood by the door as, in flames, it burned
She calls for Ali and she calls for her father… this is the tragedy of Fatima Zahra
* * *
Don’t I dye… do not ask my why my grey beard don’t I dye
Don’t I die… when I buried her, I ask, why don’t I die?
Don’t I die… when I recall her I ask, why don’t I die?
Don’t I die… I long for my death just so I can see her
I see my own death as my happiness
Because I recall, her presence was bliss
If there is no Zahra, how can there be Haider? … this is the tragedy of Fatima Zahra
* * *
(London – 01/03/13)