The Servant

Ma'mad, hurry, water the rose.
Blessed is the English one that grows
                                    out in the rain.

Water is scarce, blood not so.
Blood is the open drain that flows
                                    out in the rain.

Bring in the lamp, the olive's flame.
Pity the crippled flame that blows
                                    out in the rain.

Where are the children?  What is the time?
Time is the terror curfew throws
                                    out in the rain.

Hurry, Ma'mad, home to your child.
Wherever my namesake, Maryam, goes
                                    out in the rain.