Issah the healer
(To him all praise)
Had the Word from God
Which was able to raise
The dead and breathe
Life into a wraith
Not to crowd the planet
But to bring us to faith
In the living God. But he
Walked with men who were
Self-seeking in their depth
And deeply insincere
They pressed him for the formula
They begged him for the word
The mantra that would raise the dead
And by Him be heard
So Issah in his innocence
Whispered it to those
Jackals who were present
When Lazarus arose
And gave to all of us,
The doubting human race,
Faith in the eternal
Life, faith in Allah’s grace.
These jackals, jubilating, went
Through a desert full of stones
And came across a scattered pile
Of whitened, sun-bleached bones.
When one of these self-seekers
More foolish than the rest
Thought he’d put the formula
And Issah to the test.
He uttered the dreaded word of life
While facing to the East
And from the bones there came alive
A predatory beast,
Who ate the entire company
The miracle-maker too
Now Rumi that’s the story
But the moral must come through.
Issah was no magician
His miracles weren’t magic
The fools who deny Allah
Their ends will be farcical, tragic.