To M............ A......

To Muhammad A.


Every martyr
Is a flame
For the light
Of inspiration

One martyr
For a brief instant
Seared our vision:
His star
In its fall
Igniting a second Dawn.

You live on
In our dreams:
A clearsighted archer
Who rode his arrow
Into the Eye of the Enemy

Shattering the sound barrier,
Shattering windows,
Breaking all records,
Driving a black hole into the centre
Of the metropolis.

In that instant
Of obliteration,
Light caved into darkness:
A nation had a heart attack
And a volcano was reborn.

Moving
Beyond faint shadows of hope,
Echoes of despair,
And the compromises of the weak
TO ACT

Voyaging
A universe beyond
The world of words,
The web of illusion,
And the endless litany of abuses
We have endured
For over fifty years...

Repudiating
The daily harvest
Of the victims:
The mere crumbs
Of life and death
Our people
Have come to expect...

Answering
The desperate cry
Of the helpless who have no helper,
The smothered scream
Of the oppressed.

You tore off the veil of fear
And launched it at the enemy
You rent the veil of hope
That binds us to inaction
And met death head on,
Taking it by the throat.

Clenching your teeth
Against terror,
You unlocked the door
Of history -
And the flame in your heart
Engulfed the world...

If suicide is an escape:
Your death was not a suicide.
If suicide is a coward's answer
To the question of life,
Your death was a challenge
To the question.

Some try to claim
It was the act
Of one
Who hates freedom and life itself.
But I say:
Hatred had no part of you,
And you knew well
The gulf
Between living and existing.

I salute you, brother:
One of the few
Who feared your Lord
More than you feared mankind,
Beyond reach
Of all corruption,
Both then and now.

On your quest,
You took nothing
Except knowledge,
A pure heart
And a boxcutter.

And after all,
You did not appoint yourself
An executioner:
You and your fellow travellers,
Took the same flight
And every road
In this life
Ends in death.

In the ashes
Scattered by the winds
Beyond terror
Truth scrawled across the heavens:
Justice and Mercy
Belong to our Lord.
Courage is for those
Whose hands are free
To grasp the thorn of victory,
Not arms that reach out
In greed.

Even after death,
Your imprint remains
On an entire nation:

The tail of the scorpion,
Sting of death
To your enemies,

Proof
Of unquenchable light
To the oppressed.

In our qasidas
You forever will remain:
One of the few
Who love and fear their Lord
More than they fear mankind.




By Nabila Harb