The tear…
It travels solitary and silent, telling a story for all to see.
The misery and confusion, the lack of humanity
Taking strength from its surroundings, cruelty and poverty
A father dead in cold blood, a broken family
A skeleton of a house, the heart long dead and gone
A cold desolate schoolyard, the crater left by a bomb
A breathtaking view, a dew-coated dawn,
Look closely and discover, the dead silence of the morn
That faint tint of bloodshed on the crystal-clear lake
The lingering stench of death as the singing birds do wake
Then the rains pour ceaselessly upon the windows of the souls
Leaving lasting impressions upon the hearts once whole
Bound by the darkness rather than the chains,
Bound by the injustice and heart-wrenching pains,
Bounds by the tears that flow down children’s cheeks
Bound by the days as they turn into weeks
Then hearts stop beating whilst leaving others grieving,
But ignorant souls live on and continue with their dreaming
Not caring for the suffering nor easing the bleeding
Not wiping the thread that the tears are weaving,
Down the faces of the people for the crime of believing
One Ummah, One God, One Rasool, One Deen,
But not so united when we see the children scream
Dragged away heartlessly into the folds of darkness
Becoming lost in the pages of history, the legacy of violence
We think we struggle through the turmoil of our lives
But how can we compare to the mothers in Palestine
Giving one last hug, a kiss, a tear
Will her son live through the day or be killed by the ones they fear?
Will her daughter be raped on her way back from school?
Will her husband return from work or will he disappear with their ‘rules’?
Will they allow a little happiness amongst the daily toil and struggle?
Or will they kill them in mass graves to save them from the trouble?
Will they live to see the rising sun, the peacefulness of the dawn?
Or will soldiers surround and engulf as the new day is born?
When will those who are their ‘brothers’ ever come to their aid?
Will they come to their rescue before their hearts and willpower fade?
Will they realise their pain, feel those hot tears of despair?
They watch the setting sun, wondering if anybody cares
Realise that Allah chose for it to be this way
He chose for us to be the helpers and them in miseries way
But they have lived through it, they have lost and cried
So when will you play your part and stop the oncoming tide?
The one that brings with it corpses and dead dreams
That lives in their souls and fills the silence with screams.
We need to play a part in ending
The on-going suffering
We did nothing to stop it beginning but in our hands could be the ending
With a stop to mothers crying, children dying…we want to see them smiling.