If they think I’m misled… I show them Mohammed
Mohammed, Mohammed… Mohammed, Mohammed
* * *
I’ve walked in a world of love and lessons… and saw it, a heavenly garden
When daily through this gardened I strolled… I found with lessons it was ridden
It taught me how to stroll in my world… it took away each doubt and burden
And when with sins my heart would harden… its scent would cause my heart to open
How much I adored such a garden… to my dismay, it men tried to burn
That which, in my heart, would once blossom… they’d defame, and to flame, make it turn
* * *
Indeed they’d tried to burn this garden… hoping that elsewhere I would wander
Hoping that I’d forget its beauty… and no more, on its lessons, ponder
But how beautiful was this garden… for it had taught me how to answer
As part of such a beautiful faith… how proud was I to be a member
When mocked and defamed was my garden… morals it taught me, I’d remember
I’d reply, and not out of anger… I’d draw for them the last messenger
* * *
They portrayed him as if he misguides… I replied with morals he’d taught
They told me he preached battle and war… I drew them lessons for which he fought
To show them the beauty of this man… a flower from his garden I brought
I crushed it and drew with its juices… an image that millions have sought
I showed them the lessons he left us… that calmed souls that were left distraught
I showed them his patience, love and faith… and with such things, the world’s gaze he’s caught
* * *
I’d show then lessons, that for us, were gold… and I would tie them onto roses
Golden roses on worldly roses… the best words, the best of approaches
I’d show them the goodness that they saw… in Jesus, Abraham and Moses
I’d show them that our Lord and our faith… not an ounce of goodness opposes
I’d show them that the justice they sought… to us is as precious as ours is
And that but a stroll through this garden… the heart, soul and the mind it cleanses
* * *
I’d speak to mothers and I’d show them… that Heaven, it lies beneath their feet
I’d go to who greeted us with hatred… and with roses, these souls I’d greet
And he who was boiling with anger… I’d serve him water to soothe his heat
And the orphan who’d lost a parent… to my kindness and love, him I’d treat
And when asked where I’d found such lessons… I’d take their hand to Mohammed meet
I’d ask them to stroll in his garden… and I’d show them this garden’s beauty
* * *
(London – 23/01/13)