The believer's home
By Abu Khattab
By the glowing fire I read him a story,
About the day when the believers shall enter their home.
He lay on my chest as I held the book in my palms,
As I stroked his hair as if my hand was a comb.
The day was old and the night was born,
As my son listened attentively to what I had to say.
What awaits us all once we've passed from here,
The believers finding out where they'll happily stay.
Bed ridden I was for the last couple of days,
After shrapnel had entered through my lower-left chest.
My son would ask me during the story,
"What is this red water leaking from your vest?"
His ignorance of what I was going through,
Brought peace to my heart knowing that he didn't know.
I fell in and out of consciousness and he kept waking me up,
Wanting me to finish reading where the believers will go.
My wife had come to tend to my wound,
As she held his hand and took him away.
"Daddy's just going to change his clothes,"
Is what she said as he went out to play.
She knew my wound had gotten worse,
Gangrene had built around its surface.
Her eyes had glittered with the building of tears,
As she finally realized that I had fulfilled my purpose.
I held her hand against my wound,
As silence filled the darkness of the night.
Nothing I said as my son came back in,
His smiling face - glowing like light.
I held him again as I continued the story,
The hours ticked by as our tiredness grew.
He looked in my eyes as he tugged on my beard,
"Wake up daddy" whispering the whole way through.
"Finish the story and we'll both go to sleep,
And tomorrow we'll get uncle to fix the red water."
All I could think of was my son as an orphan,
And what would happen to my unborn daughter.
So I finally told him where the believers will go,
Where they shall reside once they've passed their test.
I described the homes of where they'll live,
And how they were meant for the very best.
I told him how we shall meet one day,
And that no one will die and all will be well.
That we'll all have rivers and we'll all have homes,
And that if people didn't believe that they'll go to hell.
He smiled gently as he made me laugh,
Asking me if there were Lions that will eat him there.
I told him maybe he could wish for one,
And that I was pretty sure that it wouldn't scare.
I held up my hand as he pressed his palm against mine,
Giving him a kiss as I pulled him towards me.
Telling him to take care of his worried mother,
Hiding my wound so that my death he didn't see.
The night grew old as he fell into slumber,
His head gently resting against my chest.
My breathing slowing as I saw the Angels come,
Dressed to welcome me and looking their best.
I knew my battle had finally been over,
When they asked for my soul to exit my core.
I began to smile and began to gasp,
Until finally, my life was surely no more.
For the remainder of the night I lay by my son,
My lifeless chest covered by his arms.
My smile remained as dawn had approached,
While his hand was in mine - pressing our palms.
The call to prayer had sounded through the village,
The slumber of my son had began to wear.
He raised his head as he turned to me,
Asking me to wake as he started to stare.
Staring at my body as he shook my arm,
Tugging my beard and calling my name.
He raised my hand and he put it in his,
Thinking it'll wake me and that I'll be the same.
For an entire half hour he remained beside me,
Wiping away the blood that was spilt for my Lord.
Until silence overcame him as he rested on me,
As rain on the village had ferociously poured.
My wife had come to wake me to pray,
Remembering earlier with the enemy I fought.
She entered the room as the smell of musk immersed her,
Approaching me cautiously pushing away her thought.
Gazing upon me it were as if I were asleep,
Body still fresh and my weapon was near.
She called my name as she pushed my shoulder,
No response she got so she began to tear.
She pushed me again until she couldn't no more,
Her tears trickling down onto the cheek of my son.
Slowly he arose to find his mother was crying,
Smile he did as the light from his face had shun.
Smudging the tears away from her eyes,
Stroking her hair as if his hand was a comb.
He joyfully asked "don't you know where he has gone?"
He's waiting for me now in the believers' home..."
By Abu Khattab
By the glowing fire I read him a story,
About the day when the believers shall enter their home.
He lay on my chest as I held the book in my palms,
As I stroked his hair as if my hand was a comb.
The day was old and the night was born,
As my son listened attentively to what I had to say.
What awaits us all once we've passed from here,
The believers finding out where they'll happily stay.
Bed ridden I was for the last couple of days,
After shrapnel had entered through my lower-left chest.
My son would ask me during the story,
"What is this red water leaking from your vest?"
His ignorance of what I was going through,
Brought peace to my heart knowing that he didn't know.
I fell in and out of consciousness and he kept waking me up,
Wanting me to finish reading where the believers will go.
My wife had come to tend to my wound,
As she held his hand and took him away.
"Daddy's just going to change his clothes,"
Is what she said as he went out to play.
She knew my wound had gotten worse,
Gangrene had built around its surface.
Her eyes had glittered with the building of tears,
As she finally realized that I had fulfilled my purpose.
I held her hand against my wound,
As silence filled the darkness of the night.
Nothing I said as my son came back in,
His smiling face - glowing like light.
I held him again as I continued the story,
The hours ticked by as our tiredness grew.
He looked in my eyes as he tugged on my beard,
"Wake up daddy" whispering the whole way through.
"Finish the story and we'll both go to sleep,
And tomorrow we'll get uncle to fix the red water."
All I could think of was my son as an orphan,
And what would happen to my unborn daughter.
So I finally told him where the believers will go,
Where they shall reside once they've passed their test.
I described the homes of where they'll live,
And how they were meant for the very best.
I told him how we shall meet one day,
And that no one will die and all will be well.
That we'll all have rivers and we'll all have homes,
And that if people didn't believe that they'll go to hell.
He smiled gently as he made me laugh,
Asking me if there were Lions that will eat him there.
I told him maybe he could wish for one,
And that I was pretty sure that it wouldn't scare.
I held up my hand as he pressed his palm against mine,
Giving him a kiss as I pulled him towards me.
Telling him to take care of his worried mother,
Hiding my wound so that my death he didn't see.
The night grew old as he fell into slumber,
His head gently resting against my chest.
My breathing slowing as I saw the Angels come,
Dressed to welcome me and looking their best.
I knew my battle had finally been over,
When they asked for my soul to exit my core.
I began to smile and began to gasp,
Until finally, my life was surely no more.
For the remainder of the night I lay by my son,
My lifeless chest covered by his arms.
My smile remained as dawn had approached,
While his hand was in mine - pressing our palms.
The call to prayer had sounded through the village,
The slumber of my son had began to wear.
He raised his head as he turned to me,
Asking me to wake as he started to stare.
Staring at my body as he shook my arm,
Tugging my beard and calling my name.
He raised my hand and he put it in his,
Thinking it'll wake me and that I'll be the same.
For an entire half hour he remained beside me,
Wiping away the blood that was spilt for my Lord.
Until silence overcame him as he rested on me,
As rain on the village had ferociously poured.
My wife had come to wake me to pray,
Remembering earlier with the enemy I fought.
She entered the room as the smell of musk immersed her,
Approaching me cautiously pushing away her thought.
Gazing upon me it were as if I were asleep,
Body still fresh and my weapon was near.
She called my name as she pushed my shoulder,
No response she got so she began to tear.
She pushed me again until she couldn't no more,
Her tears trickling down onto the cheek of my son.
Slowly he arose to find his mother was crying,
Smile he did as the light from his face had shun.
Smudging the tears away from her eyes,
Stroking her hair as if his hand was a comb.
He joyfully asked "don't you know where he has gone?"
He's waiting for me now in the believers' home..."