Father of Palestine

Father of Palestine

The day begins without a worry,
The day begins sublime.
A father soon departs his home,
His smile, frozen in time.

Before he leaves, embraces his wife,
A kiss of love and care.
He then picks up and hugs his child,
Saying in a voice so fair…

“My son, I love you, without condition,
Promise you will never forget.
Share my love, even with your enemies,
For Love allows true peace to set.”

“Assalamu Alaikum”… he wishes them peace,
And steps out into the light.
He walks with modesty, and looks behind,
Their smiles are a comforting sight.

His day at work is pleasant and bright,
A smile to everyone he sees.
“Marhaba, Marhaba”, he calls the people,
Every child given sweets for free.

He would close the shop at Noon.
To the Masjid, he would make haste.
His Dua gives thanks for happiness from Allah,
Tears of repent stream down his face.

He greets his friends as he leaves,
A handshake followed by Salaams.
Their eyes gaze at his humble face.
His eyes emenate his Imaan.

He returns to work, calm from prayer,
Death and destruction, he found.
Markets that once were filled with joy,
Now littered with bodies and burnt to the ground.

Initial thoughts were his wife and son,
As he ran with fear to his home.
Screams and cries echoed the streets,
This place was not safe to roam.

Through the alleys he determines his route,
Evading the fleeing crowd.
In a corner, a mother holds her lifeless child,
Her screams of sorrow are painfully loud.

He arrives at his street, his home is near,
The landscape of rubble is vast.
Two children ahead, hold hands as they run,
Vanish in an explosion’s blast.

His sight is averted to his neighbour,
He holds his son and tries,
Tries to shield him from a round of gunfire.
But a single bullet ends both their lives.

The father’s house is destroyed,
He assumes his family lay with it.
Before his cries and tears begin,
They emerge, their faces decrepit.

He is filled with hope and runs to them,
His son calling his Father.
Before they can meet, a blow to the head,
The pain of his impact was harder.

Dazed with the strike to the head,
He feels his family’s embrace.
The warmth of their touch is dragged away,
By a soldier with a merciless face.

Another murderer begins his unleash,
On the body of the innocent father.
He kicks, beats and pummels this man,
Every beat unbearably harder.

The collisions this man was recieving,
Grew numb after such brutal force.
The pain was sustained only by the screams,
And cries of his family’s remorse.

This father was innocent, as too was his family,
And every soul that was burnt like straw.
La Ilaha Ill’Allah,
Muhammad’ur Rasul’Allah…

These last few words, said loud and proud,
They serve as his final testimony.
He is drenched in petrol, a lighter at hand,
And is thrown at the father mercilessly.

The last sight this father beholds,
Are the tears of his wife shine.
The last sound heard was the cry of his child,
For his father, a Father Of Palestine.



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