“I will continue towards martyrdom in firmness” November 17, 2008
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“Strange is your matter O People!” October 9, 2008
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“Farewell, O Aboo Mus’ab” August 26, 2008
Posted by revolution in : JihÄd, Poetry, Sorrow, True ShuyÅ«kh , add a commentFarewell, O Aboo Mus’ab, farewell,
To the Gardens, Lofty and High.
You left the eye tearful, so it wept,
Generously, without break, constantly.
My heart, from its longing, might bleed,
And my longing has flooded with tears.
So O my Lord, gather me, by my love,
Quickly, so I might accompany him soon.
A nearness where he does not farewell me, then depart,
Leaving me like a widow to be taken care of.
For no, by Allah, the eyes were not filled,
By his vision, nor were the arms’ hunger satisfied.
So grant me the bounty of a sweet whisper from him,
In the Eternal Abode, where pleasure is everlasting.
You came to Iraq, for it was attacked,
By the dogs of Rome, they attacked it with violence.
You were for it, such a blessed son,
Defending its strongholds in just.
You killed Kufr, when you slaughtered from them,
Beasts, who accepted Kufr like fools.
Your actions struck them with fear, O my leader,
With a knife, you responded with their injustice in just.
The Raafidah, you established the Law upon them,
And clarified the proof, so there is no contrevorsy.
Allah made Islam a mighty religion by you,
And you by it are honored, not enslaved.
Iraq will cry over you, every handspan,
That you treaded over from its dust, and you will be remembered.
For the Land of the Two Rivers, you were a gift,
For a time, but that day is now like an hour.
So live in the green gardens eternally,
For there is no concern there, nor fear.
O my Lord, let me follow my beloved,
Quickly, so I can hug him soon.
- Umm Muhammad (Aboo Musab’s wife)
“…And I become a martyr remaining in bandages” July 31, 2008
Posted by revolution in : JihÄd, Poetry, Sorrow, True ShuyÅ«kh , 2 comments
I ask the All-Merciful for forgiveness - and a final blow that causes the foam to flow
Or a stab with anxious and prepared hands - with a spear that pierces the intestines and the
liverSo that they will say when they pass by my body - May Allah guide you from a fighter, indeed he
was guidedSo O my Lord, if my death has approached then let it not be - on a branch that rises with the
greenness of the meadowsBut let my grave be the interior of a resting eagle - In the skies among isolated eagles
And I become a martyr remaining in bandages - They fall into a mountain pass in fear
Warriors from Baghdad united them - Fearing Allah, descending upon the march
If they depart from their life, they depart from harm - And they head for an appointment that
is not in the booksThe master of the masters, there is no master for me except you - And there is no one O my
Lord other than You, worthy of being close toI renounce my power and strength to You - and let my strength and power be in my request
And let me be satisfied, that is all I request - even if I encounter myself on a terrifying night
- Ameer al-Zabbah, Shaykh ash-Shaheed, Ahmad Fadeel al-Nazaal al-Khalayleh Abu Mus’ab al-Zarqaawee [Taken from the tape "Follow the Caravan"]
Tides which I try to swim against - 1 July 4, 2008
Posted by revolution in : Poetry, Sorrow , 1 comment so farClose your eyes upon the seas of happiness,
Whilst waiting calmly and smoothly,
As your soul reaches the outskirts of its wildest dreams.
The speed of sound flying in its vibrant colors,
Some are memories and some are the destinies itself.
So close your eyes and remember those times…
Those times when I swam across the ocean,
Just for you.
Those times when I ran across the world,
Just for you.
Those times when I fought nations,
Just for you.
Those times when I wrote poems,
Just for you.
And close your eyes and muse the future…
When I travel the earth to meet you.
When I flip lands upside down to find you.
When I walk for nights without sleep to search for you.
Stars script themselves into verses of Qur’aan,
Clouds form to spell Allah’s name,
Eclipses give shapes to Crescents,
Wind breezes pass by with the music of dhikr,
All to remind me of hope.
Fireflies light the path to you,
Horses offer themselves in order to guide me,
Shooting stars direct my footsteps,
Just so that I can appreciate your beauty,
And bring happiness to your lips.
Upon resting under a tree,
I find you standing over me,
Looking down with a soft smile.
I wake up feeling like the ruler of the Country,
Wiping off the royal dust that was upon me,
Then staring into your eyes – a city of lights.
“I came to tell you that it will have to end…”
And you swiftly turn away with tears in your eyes,
Not even looking back…
I stare in horror,
“But I swam across for you…
I jumped across for you…
I bled across for you…
I…”
“You will not understand” she says from afar.
Day became night,
And night became lonely again.
Completely unanswered were my thoughts,
Yet I was supposed to ignore them and move on somehow…
I sit behind this screen,
Expressing my unanswered feelings,
And draw the undrawn lines,
As if they were supposed to exist…
I go to sleep feeling like the despised poor,
Who struggle so hard,
Even though the results never matched the efforts.
Tides which I try to swim against,
Drowning in the process,
…Don’t even have a clue as to why,
I am there in the first place,
Nor how I got there.
The Sun will always be upon us June 16, 2008
Posted by revolution in : Poetry , 9 commentsWe stroll in happiness throughout the park,
Leaves of all colors showing their life around us,
Holding each others hand,
With the Sun beating on our joyous teeth.
Our happiness leave trails behind in the wind,
Almost as if children once again,
Nearly forgetting our future worries,
And enjoying the musical tunes in the air.
And how can this be forgotten?
How can we forget?
The night when we were married,
How Allah poured love into our hearts,
And how He showered mercy into our eyes.
Our foreheads pressed against each others,
In rest, happiness, relief, hope, love and mercy.
It was when we were both anxious,
To show each other how ordinary humans
Can break the boundaries of love,
And can tear off the shackles of misery,
Replacing it with a garment of bliss.
And how can this be forgotten?
When these realities occurred as miracles?
The sleepless nights of joy and cheerfulness,
Took us away from the life of this world,
Into the ornaments of love’s dimension.
And just as the music was playing in your ears,
So too were the heavens and earth bridging.
And the eyes of lust could never be equal
To the eyes of love,
In that dimension.
And how can this be forgotten?
When it became difficult to distinguish dream from reality?
And today, as I hold your soft body empty of life,
I suddenly start to remember all of this,
As if I was the one who had forgotten,
And you were the one who remembered…
Remembered that our future is in the Afterlife.
“Incoming!” warns a Mujaahid from the Mountain,
The Mountain where I saw your body stabbed to death.
I turn my face East, West, South and North in a quick motion,
And saw no enemy.
Then I suddenly hear your soft beautiful voice warn from the heavens,
“You have not forgotten…”
And as I gaze upwards,
I see incoming mortars rushing to grant my citizenship
To the Eternal Gardens of Paradise.
I embrace it with a grateful smile and put my trust in Allah.
The Sun, the symbol of life and happiness, will always be upon us my love.
My love is awaiting April 29, 2008
Posted by revolution in : Poetry , 8 commentsAs she stands at the doorway,
I bid my farewell.
After exiting the door,
I pause and glance over my shoulder.
As I watch with a spark in my eyes,
Her eyes start to trickle down to the floor.
Patiently standing,
I could sense the love emanating from her.
Gently, I turn to her,
“Sweetheart,
Do not look towards the East or the West,
Nor look at our photo albums which bring joy to the chest,
Nor look towards the calls of Satan lest he seduces you,
But look towards the sky and ask.
Ask Ar-Raheem for my success,
So that I may meet you with a scent of musk that is full of excitement.”
Her eyes trickle back to my eyes;
Captured… caught in the moment of reality are we.
She smiles at me and whispers,
“Your love is awaiting you… so when weak or in doubt,
Don’t look East, nor look West,
But look to the Heavens and ask…”
A silence befalls us as my heart listens attentively.
“Ask your Beloved to allow for you to meet Him with a bright face on that Day…
The Day where I meet you with musk emanating from my body.”
My heart drops and I look at her with surprise.
Before I could speak,
She puts her finger on my lips and tells me to quiet.
And as her tears fall from her sweet eyes,
I only look on in shock.
The woman who I am leaving for the sake of Allah,
Is now the woman who is leaving me for the sake of Allah.
“Go” she tells me.
“Don’t look back.”
I slowly walk backwards,
Staring her down,
Remembering her for the last time.
I turn around and rush for my horse,
Jump upon it and ride with the wind,
Throwing the thoughts of my wife behind.
And here today,
I sit upon this mountain,
Writing about my wife,
Looking upon the beautiful horizon,
Forgetting the advice of my wife.
So I ask and I ask until I can ask no more.
My Commander taps my shoulder,
“You are leading the night mission,
So go… go in the name of Allah.”
Night falls and I stare at the base of the disbelievers,
Reminding the fighters of our plans,
When all of a sudden,
A person on a horse rushes down the mountain opposite of us,
Towards the base.
We all watch in shock and disbelief.
The rider somehow penetrates the base,
As if the Angels blinded the disbelievers,
Cutting off their heads, one by one,
Blood spilling everywhere.
I use the binoculars for a better vision,
And I see that this rider turns towards me,
As if knowing that I’m looking with a spark in my eyes,
The rider is then ambushed from behind,
Thrown off the horse,
And stabbed to death.
A light then immediately emanates from the riders body,
Straight to the heavens.
And a burst of the musk scent is echoed in the valley.
We all rush down to the base,
Kill the remaining disbelievers,
And proceed to the dead rider.
I rush to the body,
Unwrap the turban,
And faint with tears in my eyes.
Two idols fall… January 25, 2008
Posted by revolution in : 'IrÄq, Lebanon, News, Poetry, Political Poetry , add a commentTwo idols fall…
One in ‘Iraq,
One in Beirut.
The idols which had covered the horizon,
Are now smashed into pieces,
Shattering the morale of their worshipers.
