A tribute to the brave souls who were lost in Christchurch, on Friday, 15 March 2019.
In a masjid, a man with guns, filled with hate
Was met with a message of peace at the gate,
“Hello, brother,” were the last words before the shot
That sent a loving soul up above on the spot.
The bullets found a home, and they fell, one by one
The carpets were soaked a he emptied his gun,
Even as they got shot, the protected each other,
Every man, not for himself — but for his brother.
Death came in the place they loved to be,
Where Allah had gathered them especially early,
They were praying, reciting, or in in prostration,
Elders, teenagers, even innocent children;
Shahadah, on a Friday, on the carpets of a mosque,
That too in New Zealand — who would’ve thought? —
That they would be granted a status…
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