True love endures and waits its time,
like Rasul (s) persevering and waiting for word from the One
Forty years of silent supplication and perfection
till the time was right,
and the path was proclaimed for all.
True love is patient in its waiting,
like Nabi Nooh عليه السلام,
who persisted in patience with his people
for nine hundred and fifty years.
Not paying heed to their taunts and calls
as he built a ship on dry land.
True love waits for the command of the Master,
and trusts in His abundant Love.
Like the mother of Prophet Musa عليه السلام,
who cast her child upon the waters of the river,
into the lion's mouth,
then was reunited with him under the enemy's roof.
True love accepts its duty to the ummah,
even when it has been plundered by history.
Like Imam Ali (a) taking the caliphate,
when the people begged him to accept,
yet he knew he wanted it no more.
True love is faithful in its promise,
even when covenants are broken.
Like the Imam al Hasanayn (a) in their commitment,
respecting a treaty with muawiyah for twenty years.
True love seeks permission and counsel,
before making a decision.
Like Imam al Husayn (a) as he consulted 'Zaynab,
and bid farewell to Madinah,
for the trip from which he would not return.
True love knows that standing with truth may hurt,
yet gives she all she has for the cause.
Like Umm al Baneen the righteous,
who gave four sons for the son of 'Fatima عليه السلام,
and enquired first for the safety of 'Husayn عليه السلام.
True love accepts the path that is destined,
without anger or questioning decree.
Like Nabi Zakariyyah and his righteous wife,
who were granted a child when they were old.
True love sees only beauty,
even on the darkest days.
Like our lady 'Zaynab the patient
who when asked of what she witnessed at Karbala,
moaned not at the oppression and tyranny,
but said she saw only the beauty of Allah.
True love believes and waits,
for the return of a promise not seen by the eyes,
The promise of a warming sun behind the dark clouds.
Like the lovers of 'aal Muhammad today,
as they await and prepare for the coming of a prince.
I am still waiting my master for your summons,
and if I am destined to go waiting to my grave,
when your call is made,
I pray that I will rise forth in my shroud,
and come give you my pledge of allegiance,
as you accept my unworthy love,
O most noble awaited one.
Death is a time of reunion,
and a time of parting.
Reunion with the One,
reunion with the store of deeds you earned
and the parting from all that you held dear in this world.
Your wealth will not buy you a warm bed,
nor get you a helper in your grave.
No sobbing child will take your place,
nor loving spouse to replace you in your tomb.
They can only cry, then let you be,
leaving you to your fate.
Glad are those who made a friend of the Friend,
for His friendship is lasting,
and when all others will leave you,
He will comfort you in your loneliness.
When death comes,
it needs no permission.
The soul has had its time,
and now it makes its exit.
Death needs neither disease,
nor age or reason for its certainty.
Indeed, that you live today
is a sign of your impending death,
every breath taking you a step closer to your grave.
When death comes,
the body you fed and nourished is abandoned,
its beauty and splendour appreciated only by the worms
... who feed hungrily on it ...
The soul you starved and left to rust is now born,
crippled and malnourished,
disoriented and lost, for it was not taught or trained,
it was blinded to the day of its return.
When death comes,
your Lord has beckoned,
and this time,
even if you always turned away,
this time you must go.
If you ever saw a book that was a string of pearls in measure
Every word in it being a precious jewelled treasure
If you ever lacked the words to say in your night prayer
The sahifa is a book which will lay your soul bare
Every supplication you wanted for your humblest needs
Every deepest repentance you counted on beads
The most touching of prayers are all in here
Feel its words and beauty, you will lose your fear
These are the words that played on Imam Sajjad's lips
As he bowed in prostration, praying for our slips
He was the most exemplary of the characters in his time
So beautiful were his prayers they needed no rhyme
Imam had understood his role on this earth:
To worship the Praised One who holds all worth
Thus the eloquent words flowed like golden rivers
from the soul of Rasul and Imam Ali's shivers
He captured the words of our Lady Zahra'
and the faith of the patient, Zainab al Kubra
In it is the essence of Imam ath-thaqalayn,
Who never was touched by polytheism's stain
And his choicest prayers in asking for rain,
With the munajaat he learnt from his father Hussain.
If you wish to see the depth and beauty of Rasool,
and that all your requests are met with qabool,
You will always find that your words are inadequate
from him learn what it is, perfection of etiquette
The tranquility you gain when you pray in this sense
helps grant you courage, faith and patience
No words can ever do justice to how Imam prays,
just take it upon yourself to read it always.
The tears will wash you like an ocean wave
when you read his pleading: "I am Your slave!"
When you (atf) were born,
It was as if the sun rose again,
after a dark dark night.
When the oppressed had raised their hands to the sky
In devoted supplication
their voices trembling with emotion
their teary eyes witnessing the atrocities and oppression
generation after generation
and they called out to the slumbering souls
dead and deaf, not noticing, not responding...
Then you were born,
and it was said:
Say! Truth has come and falsehood has been vanquished!
and the dawn made its line on the darkened horizon
growing wider, rising higher
and the hopes rose with it
higher and higher...
here was the avenger of al 'Husayn,
the one who would avenge against those who tore the veils,
and set fire to the hearts of the believers.
Here was the water from the well,
into which the sorrows of his grandfather were silently shed,
that watered the flower of Narjis and Zahraa عليه السلام.
Then the darkened days fell upon us again,
and we were deprived of your presence,
and the sun hid its rays behind the clouds,
warming the hearts, which wilted at the separation,
casting your rays on humanity, sustaining the life of Islam.
The shadows cast by the clouds keeping the sun away
weighed upon, and darkened the days,
yet the lovers walked around in anticipation
in waiting, in hope
of the coming of dawn, the return of the awaited one.
And they remembered how each sin,
strikes him like an arrow,
thus they abstained.
And they felt his sorrow, and his tears,
for his followers, who locked him away by their deeds.
And they recalled how he witnesses their lives,
and they reformed.
And they hoped to join the ranks of his army,
thus they prepare.
Another Friday went by without your return,
then another, and another,
and the hopeful hearts broke again,
each time,
as they renewed their pledge of allegiance
and the tears streamed down, drowning their sorrow
and invigorating them with hope
inspiring them to serve humanity,
and serve their Lord,
and they said with new energy:
Hasten! Hasten O our Master, the Master of the era!
Though the days are dark, and the night is long,
The promise of your return keeps us going,
For you are he,
The awaited promise of truth,
The reviver of Islaam,
Light from radiant Light,
Light upon Light,
The spring and dawn of the believers.
