No, no, those aren’t severed heads… they’re stars that light up the sky
And just like they’re raised on spears… daughters, keep your heads raised high
* * *
Yes, it’s the time we’ve awaited… the epilogue of the story
Our mother wept years for this noon… as if it were past history
We’ve passed the past O’ my daughters… let us let go of our glory
The shackles await our forearms… let them taste sweeter than honey
Today my lungs I prepare… to breathe in more smoke then air
The scent of death fills the sky… daughters, keep your heads raised high
* * *
There’s no more time to say goodbye… for us, this Yazid is waiting
Don’t cast your gaze on these bodies… these excuses stop creating
Layla, Ali Akbar is gone… his head on a spear they’re raising
Rabab leave your hands with Abbas… Asghar does not need cradling
Let the wind of death and smoke… sway his cradle whilst we choke
The smoke on our necks we tie… daughters, keep your heads raised high
* * *
O’ orphans the tents are burning… from fire your small feet scatter
Don’t scream if you exit the tent… and find blood on your feet splatters
Look at what we have plenty of… it’s true that we don’t have water
But we have both fire and ash… and enough blood to flow rivers
Don’t scream if from your veils… you find our men’s blood trickles
It will take decades to dry… daughters, keep your heads raised high
* * *
Be careful if you have jewelry… and if an earing you’re wearing
If they see one placed in your ear… my beloved you’ll feel it tearing
Come and grab onto my garment… when we’re marched out to their glaring
Let’s not look out at those bodies… so that we won’t die despairing
Bodies lie beyond the camp… from blood our feet shall be damp
Fight with your souls to not die… daughters, keep your heads raised high
* * *
You may find that your skin’s color… will change from what you know of it
Either from the ash or the blood… or from the cheek that you were hit
I know that you are princesses… candles for your eyes should be lit
But instead of crowns for your heads… shackles on your arms shall be fit
Other orphans’ heads are wiped… your heads shall be struck and slapped
Your father’s rights they’ll deny… daughters, keep your heads raised high
* * *
When they march us pass the river… try to step on the burning sands
I’m scared one of you will step on… one of Abbas’s severed hands
Forget that he sat on his horse… and forget how high his flag stands
They cut up his body so much… he’s scattered all over these lands
For help, his name do not call… he’s gone – hands and eye and all
Our Lord gives him wings to fly… daughters, keep your heads raised high
* * *
Keep your heads high, O’ my daughters… look only at the horizon
But don’t raise your heads up too much… the heads on the spears are risen
Let your tears flow till your shackles… for this mission we’ve been chosen
Ruqaya I’m looking after… and I have a special reason
In Shaam I may loose my soul… they’ll ask “how much for this girl?”
When we’re back, then we can die… daughters, keep your heads raised high
* * *
(London – 24/10/16)