Father of Virtues

What heart in his chest? And a strengthened quest
In his hand all moral… learns from him every tale

* * *

The night’s shroud beckons as he stands watching their cries
Upon them grips the pangs of thirst and their demise
What does he feel when this is painted in his eyes?
He draws his sword and from one knee begins to rise

If death wants its grace… Abbas it must face
As death must break his shield… learns from him every tale

* * *

The children know of their uncle, the flag bearer
Beneath their thirst which begs their tongues for sweet water
His determination the wind cannot shudder
If Abbas wants justice, nothing else will matter

And thirst be ashamed… children you’ve defamed!
Know your fate Abbas wields… learns from him every tale

* * *

Before he reaches destiny and so his plight
He holds his sister and angels cry at this sight
His heart against hers, towers over her his height
He who once watched over her, now watches the night

Fuelled in him anger… demanding water
When their thirst is unreal… learns from him every tale

* * *

His sword beckons for him in longing to be held
Its soul but with his protective heart can be weld
And all his armour to quench their thirst is compelled
Why from thirsty tongues is water being withheld?

Innocent children… when torture seeks them
How would this soldier feel? .. learns from him every tale

* * *

His brother and master into his eyes gazes
He says they sing a hymn of wonder and praises
Brother your courage the very word amazes
And it will cry when your hands Fatima raises

Take my permission… guide of your vision
Their wounds who else can heal… learns from him every tale

* * *

He rides out to the river and toward death’s scent
And leaves the sweet scent of his brother by his tent
The screams of every child strengthens his content
And his sword says to him, ‘my soul to you I’ve lent’

I shall end their cries… be it my demise
Be it arrows shall hail… learns from him every tale

* * *

By the river he kneels and by it he abides
The sweet water in the palms of his hands resides
And in his shame with his own self Abbas confides
How can you drink when to them water’s been denied?

And in his anger… he throws the water
To greed he does not yield… learns from him every tale

* * *

He rides back to the tents and through arrows he wades
Before his hands are severed by a metal blade
Then he’s struck on his head, his hope begins to fade
His blood flows down and in his blood Abbas is bathed

He cries, O’ Master… come to your brother
Forgive me, I have failed… learns from him every tale

* * *

(London – 06/12/10)

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