Their blessed scars shall be admired <br />Nor the Hellenic tears, the rivers, be dried <br />That artillery redeems the desire's disgrace <br /> When hell's last chain tortures and they face <br /> <br />There rose ethereal tunes of song <br />Riding in submarine bright, very strong <br />Fight round her, definitely glorified <br />Mother Theresa, moon-like, a far-moving tide <br /> <br />Of regret and memory; inside her, each alone <br />White against black of storm, an angel, she is known <br />At root and water of this, who flung this flame <br />May her familiars grow to shun prodigal name <br /> <br />When at last they challenged poisonous hearts to the fray <br />And in a League of Truth, The Almighty God grant they may <br />And let solemn prayers hosts together bring <br />In Manila, they receive the fellowship of love-giving<br /><br />Ahmad Shiddiqi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ode-3-2/
