Who could paint this picture… no hands and no banner
When women cried his name… no Abbas to them came
Where is the flagbearer?
* * *
When the tents were set on fire and ran the women… ran from tent to tent
Soukeina searched for her uncle, and her protection… bathed in her torment
Be it that he lies by water whilst our tents they burn… where is his content?
Where is the protective heart that disallowed our screams… whilst now we lament?
When danger was coming… up with his sword he’d spring
His valour shielded us… around us a fortress
Where is the flag bearer?
* * *
Would you cower even when our men have faced defeat… Abbas never dies
I swear if you had your hands and our screams you heed… from death you’d arise
The heat of the burning sands scolded our very feet… for you were all cries
As we were all taught whenever with danger we meet… Abbas guards our pride
He who even death fears… when it calls for our years
Over men he towered… and from him they cowered
Where is the flag bearer?
* * *
Were your eyes to see what horror these orphans went through… you would lose your mind
Chained from neck to neck with the youngsters forced to tiptoe… scars on them you’d find
Thirsty and burned tongues yet when they set their eyes on you… water they denied
Your tragedy ended but theirs’ now begins anew… with death intertwined
Cradle your severed hands… and by your daughters stand
Unlace from your left/right eye… the arrow and tears cry
Where is the flagbearer?
* * *
When we once walked in the street he would close its candles… to keep us hidden
It was as if walked along us one thousand angels… this our guardian
So when we walk in the streets of Shaam where’s our uncle?… with eyes its ridden
Our presence known to every man, and of our tale… who are these women?
As they stare and they jeer… you watch upon a spear
O’ head raised and severed… watch as we are tortured
Where is the flag bearer?
* * *
No I did not teach my tears to flow in your absence… how can I O’ moon
When the moon gazes upon us from such a distance… I remember you
When patience tell me be patient, I tell my patience… it lies by his tomb
Drawn in his shadow is every drop of my grievance… and it sings death’s tune
And his tomb it circles… drawn to his miracles
My days ask for his shrine… there his heart against mine
Where is the flagbearer?
* * *
(London – 05/03/11)