Before I leave this world… I want to see the Mehdi
* * *
O’ Lord I raise my hands and I cry out a prayer
For years I’ve watched the age in my eyes, away, wear
These two eyes have never seen hope, only despair
And they’re complaining that his absence is unfair
Can I argue with them… they’ve seen only tragedy
* * *
I paint to you a picture and paint it in tears
To the absence of my beloved, I’ve sold my years
And I’ve lived every day hoping he reappears
Since a young age I’ve known only trials and fears
Every trial and test… calls for the son of Ali
* * *
O’ Lord I swear by the carer of his neighbour
His enemies our conviction will outnumber
And when we stand by our beloved, we’ll remember
We’d read Ahad each day and each Friday Nudba
The pain in which he lived… will be but a memory
* * *
I ask for the return of the ‘rightly guided’
As tells me Ahad when in it I’ve confided
If after forty days my place is decided
Must I wait forty years to, by him, be aided?
After forty mornings… must I still cry “I’m ready”?
* * *
It scares me my eyes were born without him in sight
It scares me more they may not see him till my plight
Lord you request for our faith to be at its height
Since birth, my eyes are yet to adjust to his sight
I swear I’ll never sin… if I see his face daily
* * *
O’ Lord every Friday has become a torture
We call out his name and do not hear an answer
Every Friday, Heavens and Earth shout together
“Where’s the avenger of the killed in Karbala?”
And Friday’s sunset weeps… knowing next week it will pray
* * *
I ask You to promise me O’ Merciful Lord
When I die and indeed death for all is assured
With his return raise me from my grave with my sword
With the sight of my beloved my only reward
Don’t let even my death… come between his rise and me
* * *
(London – 09/09/13)