Quenched At Last

Many sons have been born, but none like this one,

Whose bravery and loyalty shines as bright as the sun.

On that day, the son of a brave lion, of Bani Hashim, the moon,

Sets out to fetch the children water, relief is coming soon.

He charges through the ranks, slicing them like butter,

With fear and cowardice, the enemy hearts flutter.

To bring him down, they must cheat, oppress and lie,

And the assault begins with the arrow shot into his eye.

Two deathly strikes to my heart when they cut off his hands,

Two blows to my soul, as he lay bleeding on the desert sands.

The flag that was held high, now comes to half mast,

As they plot and plan how to finish this dauntless lion fast.

The blood gushes from his wounds in immeasurable pain,

Yet his mission remains to quench the children of Hussain.

They then pierce the water skin, that carried hope and water,

Determined to persist in their animalistic slaughter.

“Ya Sayyidi, Ya Imami!” a call to the brother and master,

A last wish to be granted as his life drained out faster.

Don’t take me back to camp as I have failed to quench the thirsty hopes,

And the children will not be able to bear the sight of my corpse.

The weight of my body I will not make you carry and bear,

When there is none with whom your burdens you can share.

The time has come, my brother, let me lie on the sand,

I know you have none left to assist you from your faithful band.

Please wipe my eye, as I cannot see you through this blood,

The arrow that pierced one eye caused the other to flood.

Allow me the pleasure of gazing once more upon your face,

Let me see the one whose love they cannot erase.

Abbaas, fulfill one more wish O noble son of my father,

Today for once, don’t call me master, simply ‘Brother’.

Like the cooing at sunset of a gentle and beautiful dove,

With his last breath, he fulfills one more wish for his love.

From Allah we are, and to Him we must surely return,

Your killers have been promised in eternal hell to burn.   

     

Ah! I have lost my support and my backbone,

All day you were by my side, now I am alone.

The shores of the Euphrates with your blood are drenched;

O Saaqi of the thirsty, at Kawthar you have been quenched…

-S-

Blood Red Desert Sand

To support you, thousands vowed,

To make Islam and history proud,

Then the hour came, and loyalty hid behind a cloud,

And none remained from the Kufan crowd,

Leaving the master, to be struck in prayer as he bowed…

Ah! Struck in prayer on the blood red desert sand as he bowed…

Ali Asghar the infant and Sakinah the innocent daughter,

Thirsty and deprived of even a drop of water,

Hearts break, and the mother falls into a swoon at his slaughter,

And the pure blood, trickling to the desert floor made it hotter…

Ah! The burning blood red desert sand growing hotter…

Al Husain will be weakened by the loss of his brother, as his helpers grew less,

But al Abbaas cannot return to the camp, after so much hope, waterless

Despite the triumphant cries of war, there is a shocked moment of quietness

As the lion son of a lion is felled for standing by righteousness

Dhuljanaah returns to the camp, head bowed, rider-less…

Ah! The horse returns, from the blood red desert sand rider-less…

Those who called you to save them scattered,

When the order of yazid in blood was lettered.

Nothing else could have mattered,

When every inch of me was bruised and battered,

And the core of my soul, broken, shattered,

At the sight of your innocent blood, upon the earth splattered…

Ah! The innocent blood, on the blood red desert sand splattered…

This deserted land, that witnessed the fray,

In the battle to the death, between justice and play,

Where for the last time this earth witnessed my master Husayn pray,

Before his severed head, un-cradled, on the burning desert lay,

And the haunting echoes of Sakinah's farewell play.

Here my soul will live and die, here my heart will stay…

Ah! On this blood red desert sand my heart will forever stay!

Towards Karbala We March

Watch the figures walking the path of honor,

Leaving Madinah behind,

The soil upon which Zahraa (a) prostrated,

Pieces of heaven amongst the scattered graves in Baqee.

Leaving behind the lonely dome of Rasul,

Echoing with the resonating adhaan of Bilaal,

Towards honor they march.

Across the desert by the barricaded rivers -

A forest of arrows,

On the blood drenched soil.

Where veils will be ripped off,

And water denied.

After limbs are mutilated, and heads decapitated,

Where the cries of a thirst gripped infant,

Are silenced by a sharpened arrows tip.

Where heaven is sold for the promise of a throne,

And heaven is gained by the thirsty.

Towards heaven they walk.

To the land of the free,

To kiss the sand perfumed by the blood of martyrs.

Bravery epitomized in the acts of submission,

To the will of the Master,

Against the wish of the king -

Towards Nainawa they proceed.

As we march towards Karbala,

My Lord, let the sun rise again,

On the blood drenched souls of the slaves -

Who could not stand in Karbalaa that scorching day,

And hear the plea: Hal min naasirin yansurna?

Separated from the call of the Imam by time.

My Lord let the moon rise again,

For the thirst filled souls of the slaves -

Separated from their ‘Abbaas.

My Lord let the stars rise again to guide the travelers,

Whose hearts make the daily sojourn,

Seeking their Ali Akbar and Aun and Qasim.

My Lord, lift the veil from the bereaved believers,

Who are broken each time they remember,

The trials of their Mistress Zainab.

My Lord, let the mournful souls arise

From prostration on the sands of Karbalaa,

In the caravan of their master Sajjaad.

My Lord, accept every fumbling step we take,

In our blinding grief, and newfound relief,

As we embark on our path to You,

Towards the shore of the Euphrates we march -

For the company of al Husayn we search…

For the company of al Husayn we search.

Count (part II)

Will you count the brave sons, who on that day were felled;

Or those who stood witness as the sisters were unveiled?

How many times did the empty cradle swing before it went mute;

And the scavenging animals, disguised as men, carried it for loot?

For how long did the children's cries of 'Uncle!' 'Uncle' go

Before they realised uncle was not coming back from the shore?

'Abbaas kneels at the shore, weakened by war and thirst,

Then empties his cupped hand at the thought of being quenched first.

Sukayna asked the way to Najaf, the burial place of Allah's friend,

To tell him of her pain and grief, which no one else could mend.

The birds fell out of the skies in their blinding sorrow,

Oh the calamity, the atrocities to be done on the morrow!

Ali Akbar, the comfort of the mothers has been slain,

Now the vandals clamor and call for the blood of Husain.

Hurr, the faithful slave from his debt has been freed,

As the last breaths of life from his gaping wounds bleed.

As-Sajjaad can barely walk, yet no one takes pity,

And he is dragged in chains, all the way to yazid's city.

O Believer! The true men of God on this earth are numbered,

At the call of Husain, did you awake or remain those who slumbered?

'Husain was martyred and his blood spelt it out for all times: Allah is One!

Thus we hold to the path, and wait for him at whose hand justice will be done.

~S~

Was it You?

Was it the radiant rays that touched my face,
of the warming sun,
bouncing off the dazzling surface,
that made me look down,
and think of You.

Was it everyone I met,
that was pure and good,
that filled my heart with an aching emptiness -
was it them I felt,
or You I remembered?

Was it the bubbly laughter,
of a little child,
who marveled at the dropletss that wet her face,
that made me smile,
and wish for You?

Was it the hazy mist,
through which I saw wondrous forms -
shaping and reshaping in a million ways,
that made me reach out,
and hope to find You?

Was it the pattering rain,
or the rustling leaves on a starry night -
was it the silent tears,
that ran silently down in the darkest hours,
that made me sob and raise my hands to You?

Was it the feel of my heartbeat,
and its rhythmic pattern,
that will one day stop,
and not come back,
that reminded me of me, and brought me close to You?

Was it all the wonders,
or all the surrounding beauty?
Was it the signs of hope,
while in the clutches of despair,
was it the minuteness of my worries,
or the magnitude of Your mercy,
that made me cry, and made me smile.

I wanted... You Heard

I wanted to tell You my deepest fears;
but I could find no words to describe what I meant.
I wanted to tell You the source of my tears,
but just as I began, they dried up,
silent.


I wanted to explain why I had lost hope,
but I was too ashamed,
so I hoped my silence would speak.
I wanted to cry my heart out to You,
again and again,
but my eloquence failed even in tears.


I wanted to leave all others,
and turn only to You,
but I was too weak,
thus I hopped back and forth.
I wanted to be certain,
unshakeable, firm as a rock,
but I wavered in my convictions,
and lost my right of audience.


I wanted to be enveloped,
protected and sheltered in Your care,
but it was I who moved away,
then bemoaned my state.


I wanted to tell one who would hear,
before I said a word,
I wanted one who would comfort,
before I shed a tear,
I wanted one who would come to my aid,
despite my neglect in asking,
and my impatience in seeking.
I wanted one who would not condemn me,
and turn me away for my constant slips.
I wanted so much,
so much more than I could find the words to say.


I wanted too much,
but You heard,
and You gave me so much more.

Too Precious

I wanted to capture a snowflake

Whose perfect symmetry entranced me;

It’s six sides twirling prettily,

A thousand colours bouncing off its surface.

I thought of stretching out my hand to hold it,

and make it mine,

So I could cherish it,

When I remembered how it floated into my hand.

But I thought of my scorching touch,

Against its delicate crystal beauty,

And I let the moment pass,

To experience it again,

And value it as much.

I had captured it where it matters the most.