Arabian Autographs: Promise Of Paradise
"Soldiers of their of their own beliefs, interpretations full of holes, the book can turn a few wronged men into martyrs with no souls...'' Angela Townsend's poem is topical, disturbing and profound.
As muezzins call from minarets
Believers make their way
Through narrow streets and alleys
Side by side, begin to pray
Outside the light is fading
As a moth caught in a flame
Skies of pink and gold grow weary
Silent witness to the blame
His son lies cold and lifeless
Silenced innocent of fate
Collateral, invading forces say
Of this child, barely eight
The final prayer is uttered
Robed men drift to the door
One small band remains behind
A jihad of just four
The final curtain of his life
Sees skies turn darkest black
Beads click in rhythmic tension
He won’t be coming back
Soldiers of their own beliefs
Interpretations full of holes
The book can turn a few wronged men
Into martyrs with no souls
His loved one sleeps on peacefully
His greatest sacrifice
But the love of a woman is no match
For the promise of paradise
