Submitted by : muslimhero on Strugle

One day I sat and thought about,
The dying Muslim population in the riot,
Them dead everywhere says the news in brief,
Babies, grandfather, mother, sister and niece,
Their life is not worth a container beef,
There is no day when the massacre will cease,
I can’t wait to see,
My brother’s agony to always decrease,
I am coming even if it’s across the seas,
Share the burden with you and feel relief,
I will trek there if I have no means,
To pay the transport, especially the plane fees,
I ain’t have a dime to release,
But in finding danger I have ninety nine keys,
So I may die with the remaining Muslim refugees,
Because if they ask me how I die,
I will be proud to say I went without a goodbye,
And my soul will be seven times above the sky.

God forbid when on my bed I lie,
That would be evident enough to make me cry,
I can’t withhold; my sister suffers while I watch,
A circus TV show…searching further for channel O,
A girl has no hearth to lay safe,
Monsters everywhere her eyes wave,
Unless I will run with those that run,
In the middle of bomb shells playing drum,
I will feel guilty if I don’t make up a sum,
Among the martyrs endless fun,
Because, if they ask me how I die,
I will say I went without a goodbye,
And my soul will be seven times above the sky.

On the day of final congregation,
When they ask me ‘how did you pass by My creation,
Were you merciful or you turned your back in opposition?’
That day my mouth will be sealed,
Hell awaits to be fuelled,
My actions are my shield,
Because bombshells gave me pain,
That’s what my wounds will explain,
My blood scent will entertain,
And if they ask me how I die,
I will say I went without a goodbye…

“And you had certainly wished for death [i.e., martyrdom] before you encountered it [before you] while you were looking on” [Ali Imran: 143]