He cries… for what sin did my child die?
He cries… and throws his blood toward the sky
* * *
This is the father who today watched his son… massacred as a child in his two arms
The tears of thousands of Prophets in his eyes… and the blood of Mohammed stained on his palms
Feeling the arrow, he waves his tiny arms… and the voice of his father no longer calms
The eyes of Hussain blinded before his death… watching as his young child, an arrow harms
He cries… why does my child from me shy?
He cries… and throws his blood toward the sky
* * *
This is my child, six months, what was his sin… it tortures me to see my child thirsty
I forget my own thirst and only saw his… upon my beloved the pangs of thirst would prey
Yet for all the pain I had seeing his thirst… soaked in blood, I can’t see my child this way
With an arrow in his neck, in my wails… my beloved to death’s hands I gave away
He cries… lifeless, why does in my hands lie?
He cries… and throws his blood toward the sky
* * *
Every father overjoys with his son’s birth… and I wonder if my enemies have sons
What father, evil or good can bear the weight… of knowing that his infant, murdered, becomes
If me and my brothers were of Hashim’s moons… then our sons within our eyes were truly suns
The weight of losing a son matches the weight… of the weight of happiness when a son comes
He cries… and all fathers to his grief cry
He cries… and throws his blood toward the sky
* * *
Abdullah, you sleep in secrets of my heart… whoever knows my love for you, knows Hussain
I find the gaze that once brought my heart comfort… now brings my heart nothing but the chains of pain
With no brother, son, nor a friend to complain to… I throw your blood to the sky and I complain
And when I fall beside all that have fallen… I’ll watch it return when from skies, blood shall rain
He cries… tears that draw Asghar in his eye
He cries… and throws his blood toward the sky
* * *
Lord, I hold this lifeless child in my hands… my stand against this tyrant I have fulfilled
When they look back at this day, they shall all ask… for what sin was Hussain’s young infant’s blood spilled?
With my child’s blood, I’ve defeated the sword… tomorrow by millions he shall be held
And whenever they hold a child, they’ll cry… Hussain’s beloved infant in his arms was killed
He cries… to his son, a final goodbye
He cries… and throws his blood toward the sky
* * *
(London – 10/10/13)