If I Were Time

If I were time and had my way,

I'd go back to that wondrous day,

When Yousha and his army won,

And then I'd wish I were the sun.

And as the sun, I'd rise and shine

Upon the folk of Palestine,

Where Isa made the blind to see,

And then his blessed breath I'd be,

To gust with winds and blow around

Until I reach that battleground

And let upon AlBadr rain,

Longing to be a man again.

The Tears of Fatima

Sweet, little Fatima.

Her heavy heart rose in her throat,

And tears began to blur her sight,

To hear them laugh, and see them gloat,

Her heavy heart rose in her throat.

Sweet, little Fatima.

Her eyes went wide, she gasped aloud,

To see her father in that state,

She jostled through the jeering crowd,

Her eyes went wide, she gasped aloud.

Sweet, little Fatima.

She flung herself upon his frame,

As he, in firm sujood, remained

The object of a coward's game,

She flung herself upon his frame.

Sweet, little Fatima.

A caring love so pure avails:

The little girl began to clean

The heap of animal entrails,

A caring love so pure avails.

Sweet, little Fatima.

Her sobs and whimpers cut the air,

As tiny hands lightened the load,

The Prophet rose to end his prayer.

Her sobs and whimpers cut the air.

Sweet, little Fatima.

Did renewed strength her grief replace

To set her tired eyes upon

Her father's calm and peaceful face,

Did renewed strength her grief replace

Sweet, little Fatima.

The Prophet looked down at his child,

To see the pain that lined her eyes,

Then Father, daughter gently smiled.

The Prophet looked down at his child,

His sweet, little Fatima.