I was forged from metal with death as my intended friend
And yet life was breathed in me when I was made in the heavens
I’m cold – metallic skin – two-pronged for only Allah is one
The only baths I take are in the blood of evil ones
The first words a newborn hears are La ilaha il allah, Muhammadu Rasoolullah
The first words that met my ears were la fatah ila Ali wa la saif ila Tholfiqar
I seek out tyrants and I cut out the most evil of tongues
Where I live it rains blood and the dust of battle fills my lungs
My skin is made of Heavenly metal, forged not on this Earth
When I descended from the Heavens it was as if Jibraeel gave birth
I’m royal, loyal, I sit patiently till I’m needed
When innocents are in danger, to the son of Abu Talib I’m handed
Swords are brain-dead, branded, while I’m alive in the flesh
I flush out darkness from this word and watch it into Hell crash
Heels crush, Archille’s heel crushed, Ali he’ll crush
Any enemy when I’m in his hand, I make other swords blush
Me and Ali are intertwined just like his prayer and the Divine
None can define or find me in battle, I make Umaya blind
I bind hands together just because they shake in fear
When the combination of me and Ali toward them comes near /
When I was at Uhud I watched our own men run away
They cleared the battle like cattle and I saw Muhammad’s hope sway
Ali turned to the Angel of Death and said stay out of my way
He grabbed me easily as if by a feather I could be outweighed
Outraged, inside him the anger of the Creator
He leapt like a leopard into battle, wherever he fell left a crater
I toughened up, my metal blunt, not that my metal was blunt
But my courage was unapologetic, my blade sharp at its front
I cut through men as if they were nothing but paper
I cut through whatever made Muhammad feel danger
Endangered species felt hope as they watched me destroy man
With every strike I recited the Quran, “they plan and Allah plans”
It’s as if my metal turned to fire knowing Muhammad was alone
My skin could not be scorched, and unbreakable my bone
I brought gravediggers business and gave them plenty of tombs
But left so much blood splattered on Allah’s beautiful sand dunes /
I’m necessary… but merciful. My wielder is of mercy full
One time we were about the kill someone, above him we stool tall
The man said I heard you never deny a request when your name is called
So drop your sword he said, Ali dropped me, to the Earth I’d fall
I was conceived out of necessity, Islam is dignity
Islam is peace, but it defends the weak against tyranny
It’s thanks to me and Khadija’s money that Islam survived
I came to defend the Muslims when of life itself they were deprived
The majority of the time I sat in Ali’s house
Sheathed, gathering dust, watching how he lived with his spouse
I’d watch the Lady of Light clean and Ali sweep around her feet
When they’d cook, the door would knock, and the beggar at the door they’d feed
I never saw the house of Ali turn away a beggar
If a thousand years pass, and beggars came, they’d still answer
After I while I’d see kids crawling around the floor
Every so often Hussain would crawl to me and look at me in awe
Ali would pick him up and place him firmly on his leg
He’d only kiss him in two places, on his chest and on his neck
I wondered if I’d defend him one day and if that was my purpose
It’s as if Ali look at me and said, “that job is for Abbas.”
Who’s Abbas I wondered? And why does Ali cry sometimes?
He’d pour grains of sand on me sometimes and say, these are Karbala’s grains
Karbala? I never heard of such a place. I didn’t understand
So I’d sit in the corner of the house, right there on a stand
We would venture out once in a while to defend Muslim lands
I remember Hunayn. Ha – I’m laughing because alone against eleven thousand we would stand
I remember Ali’s hand being lifted at Ghadeer
But after that I felt it all went downhill from there.
The Best of Creation died and Ali buried him by himself
Before he passed away he told Ali “sabr”… before even yourself
I vowed to defend the family for the sake of my Lord
That men will remember Ahlulbayt when they remember the two-pronged sword
After the Prophet passed things became hostile… I smiled, its been a while
Surely Ali would pick me up if threatened him someone vile
And if someone threatened his wife? No question, they want to die
Men like Ali stand up for their woman before they even think to cry
The time came… Ali was praying… and the night was much too silent
Fatima was in dua and she was praying for patience
I sat in the corner, my blade itching, my handle twitching
Yearning the stitching of flesh or skin any that is bewitching
Men knocked on the door and I watched Fatima go towards it
I heard yelling and shouting and the door on fire lit
It all happened so fast, and Ali was lost in his prayer
And yet they found Fatima behind the door in despair
They told him Fatima was inside and he cried out “so what!”
He pushed the door against her and her rib in the nail was caught
The men flooded into the house before Ali could even turn
I thought maybe he’d reach for me, his hand my handle would yearn
My handle naked, I couldn’t handle or face it, the children
Crying and calling out as if the Prophet’s grandchildren are orphans
My eye caught Fatima and I saw blood all over the floor
She cried out “Ya Fatiha”, the call came from her souls core
I’m not used to seeing so many oppressed people around me
Whenever I see evil, it’s as if death surrounds me
I saw him walking to Fatima with his eye on her cheek
I tried my best to move myself and I even felt my two-pronged blade shake
I stood there helplessly and watched him slap my mother in her face
For the first time in my life, I wish I were anywhere but this place
The flames filled the house and I felt as if I were in Hell
Hell in the house that Heaven yearns for? Is this acceptable?
Ali is chained up, but I still managed to see, through the smoke,
Before he left the house… he looked at me. I have no heart, but I tell you my heart broke.
Fatima passed away and I’ve never seen Ali so broken
Me and him used to speak all the time but since then we’ve not spoken
It’s been a thousand years. I’ve seen many things. I’m older now…
I also fought through Karbala… but that story I’ll spare you from for now.
I’m the most famous sword in history and yet now the most lonely
Sheathed deep in the pocket that belongs to the awaited Mehdi
My metal has somewhat faded, I’m not as young as I once was
It’s been a thousand years… I’ve forgotten the taste of evil blood
Were I a man I’d have a white beard, my eyesight wouldn’t work so great
That’s because every single day I look up at Mehdi and I wait
Is today the day Master? How much are people suffering?
How many Fatimas are slapped today, how many Zainabs weeping?
He never makes eye contact with me, I think its because he knows
That he’ll never make his appearance until Allah allows…
I was used many times – but what I learnt from them all was mercy
So I pray for Allah to hasten the reappearance of the Mehdi
* * *
(London – 17/02/18)