Drawn on the sword that painted death in your eyes
Your life as from your birth till your demise
* * *
I wonder if O’ father of freedom
You recall your speech, before you were born
Making your mother weep, telling her of thirst
That martyred alone shall be her newborn
Why put such weight upon a mother’s heart,
So childless names her womb must adorn?
Why when her arms long to cradle her child
Leave a fragile heart so wounded and torn?
* * *
O’ you who catches the world’s very gaze
Has on a newborn this world’s gaze seen tears?
Indeed how can your grandfather not weep
When he sees not blossoming, but torn years
And when Mohammed holds you in his arms
He sees your face as upon him it peers
The face of innocence, drawn in each eye
He sees the same heads carried upon spears
* * *
The same youth that once held Mohammed’s hand
For the moon only the sun can brighten
And stood in awe the people of Najraan
Would he ask his Lord to on us curse hasten?
He who’s radiance makes jealous the moon
If he asked his Lord, move would a mountain
Yet I tell you O’ whose eyes look like moons
If only they’d known what for you was written
* * *
I wonder about these innocent eyes
How young were they when exposed to fire?
What age wore away from them when you saw
Your beloved mother struck with a strike dire
Indeed this is the womb in which you slept
Of which the angels would enquire
Where is Mohsin, the son of Fatima?
He fell to the door and wall’s desire
* * *
Reflected in the sword of your killer
O’ Master of Martyrs know I wonder
Do you recall wailing on her body?
A sound that to angels came as thunder
Does a child beg his mother to waken,
Yet only her silence his heart would hinder?
How easily my patience can burn away,
Whilst motherless to your death you’d wander
* * *
With the spark of life long gone from your eyes
Who recalls the reserve of your moral?
That you stood guard infront of Uthman’s door
Even on the unjust you’d not wish peril
You wished good on men who’d curse your father
Even when crushed you’d stay a rose’s petal
No I’ve not seen a rose so beautiful,
That’s lured and murdered by wolves so feral
* * *
I wonder if O’ father of orphans
When your father with your hands you buried
Your soul, it slipped through fingers of your hands
And fell into his grave a planted seed
For how without him could blossom your years,
When each day to his voice, it would take heed?
When the tears you would cry would write his name
As would the blood that from your wounds would bleed
* * *
No, the eye has not looked upon a moon
That raises suns who burn valour proudly
And here stands you, who if you were gifted
A thousand sons, you’d name them all Ali
I see it written in your eyes the truth
It’s due to his sword that you stand there lonely
As men seek vengeance for Badr, Uhud
Yet you still stand there with his name proudly
* * *
I seek the dreams that once rested upon your eyes
And the land of death in them you’d visit
When I travel to that same land, I ponder,
If just travel through my dreams has my spirit
I see where you stood alone and where you bled
I see where your tents upon fire were lit
And I see your life flash before your eyes,
As Shimr’s sword upon your neck would sit
* * *
I wonder when you gaze upon Shimr’s face
If you recall the battle of Sofeen
A prisoner had asked you a favour
The rope upon his wrists painful had been
And how could to this wish you not comply?
After all the hardship your eyes had seen
And so you loosened it from Shimr’s hands
Such a heart is raised only by a Queen
* * *
This your life that flashes upon his sword
Would you care took look upon your future?
When upon a spear, your head it is raised
Like devils once raised upon spears scripture
And no longer flash in your eyes shall life
Instead you gaze on your daughters’ capture
And much like you they shall walk life enchained
Your severed head haunting them a picture
* * *
(London – 27/10/11)