For the holy five… none returned alive… I raised them that way
For Muhammad’s sons… my moons became sons… I gave them away
* * *
I am a mother and yet I am not a mother
I was given four sons and yet I chose another
For five holy lights all of my children I’d gather
Ali and his sons and Muhammad and his daughter
I loved every name… my sons weren’t the same… their lives for them sway
For Muhammad’s sons… my moons became sons… I gave them away
* * *
O’ Abbas O’ moon of my nights, you comfort my cries
I raised you as the hands that protect Muhammad’s eyes
Before your flag make sure your body on that dust lies
O’ moon make sure you set to let Muhammad’s sun rise
This is Muhammad… worth the blood you’ve bled… let swords on you prey
For Muhammad’s sons… my moons became sons… I gave them away
* * *
O’ Abdullah when you see thousands in that army
Recall Hunayn when against four-thousand stood Ali
Stand in-front of Yazid raising Ali’s name proudly
Draw your sword and cry O’ Ali, you will see beauty
O’ son of Haider… break open Khaybar… and your Marhab slay
For Muhammad’s sons… my moons became sons… I gave them away
* * *
O’ Jafar I give you to Hassan the forgotten
Show him he’s not alone when your wounds for him open
And when arrows strike your chest remember his poison
Let the swords chew your river just like his was broken
When your soul returns… the Prince of Heavens… his grace will display
For Muhammad’s sons… my moons became sons… I gave them away
* * *
O’ Uthman O’ last of all my sons, let your blood rain
Make your body a carpet for the feet of Hussain
If you’re hurt by arrows remember your brother’s pain
Do not turn away from the swords until you are slain
When he stands alone… challenge Yazid’s throne… make it fall today
For Muhammad’s sons… my moons became sons… I gave them away
* * *
O’ Fatima I am Ummul Baneen, your servant
I hold two severed hands but for them I don’t lament
I will mourn your broken rib until my last moment
And mourn with you and Zainab when Hussain leaves the tent
For Hussain these hands… with him no-one stands… his grief turns hair grey
For Muhammad’s sons… my moons became sons… I gave them away
* * *
(London – 21/09/14)