Fuck ISIL 

Ode to Manat

Before there was an Abdullah there was an Abd’manat

Slave to Time

Mother

Older than the oldest of stones

Bones hewn from the granite of the great earth

 

 You can’t keep a good goddess down

 

They circle their box

Shrouded in black

An ornate burqa

But beyond the barzakh

After it’s all done

They shave their heads

Before they go home

 

Mother Time

Cast your stones

No other, great mother

They’ve erased your words but

No merchant can steal the song

Or change the meaning of her great stone

Little boys run and weep

With their pricks held tight

In trembling hands

A goddess is a fearsome thing

To walk the land

 

And at the death of the merchant

It was the ancient Mother who laughed

Chastised , And brought the Fool home.

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