I gaze out to this land… and I speak to its sand
O’ land of death for my son, tell me what evils you’ve planned?
* * *
O’ land of death I’m Layla and know I’m waiting
Much like the tide your sand is always awaiting
Tell me is my son’s sword like Haider’s sword drifting
Or tell me will his absence be ever-lasting?
Of my son’s death are you telling me or taunting?
Will it be another or his final meeting?
O’ land of death you taunt… a mother’s heart you haunt
Is it my fears or is it my son’s blood and flesh you want?
* * *
O’ land know that Hussain has me left alone here
As he saw in my eyes my soul was begging, where
Is the light of these eyes, it’s not a question mere
Is he dead or alive, with me just be sincere?
Will you bring me my son or all my hopes severe?
To the respect of mothers do you not adhere?
Beneath our feet heaven… give me what you’ve taken
Don’t let me to my son’s absence tomorrow awaken
* * *
O’ who returned Yusuf O’ Lord to my prayer heed
To his mother’s embrace and comfort my son lead
And the prayer of a mother’s accepted indeed
Though on how it shall be answered I am worried
Will he return safely or broken and bloodied?
Will he ride to me or must my son be carried?
O’ Lord answer my prayer… my hopes this land would tear
A mother calls for her son, return him to his mother
* * *
I want to leave but events play out in my head
I fear if I head out upon arrows I’d tread
I fear if I leave my eyesight would see ahead
A sight that would make me scream out in all my dread
Is that Ali fallen or is it Mohammed?
Is that Haider struck or my child struck instead?
My grief tells me to leave… my hope tells me believe
And you O’ land tell me to throw away my hope and grieve
* * *
He returns and I see the wounds upon his face
He asks me for water, I say there’s not a trace
He tells me O’ mother I can’t live in disgrace
Let me go to my death, and to the sweetest grace
He holds me and I hold him, a final embrace
And heads out my own child to his resting place
How can I say farewell… into his arms I fell
I swear if allowed in his grave with my child I’d dwell
* * *
Sits Hussain beside his body, his heart ruptured
As if with his blood my son his farewell gestured
O’ land of death know my mind had always pictured
His growth, not his age by your clutch to be captured
By his mother’s touch my son’s growth to be nurtured
Not by your swords and arrows his body tortured
O’ Hussain tell my son… his mother awaits him
And whether in his life or in death I shall welcome him
* * *
(London – 20/11/11)