What salvation does man have when he stands in the hereafter
If he does not receive a glance from Fatima Zahra
* * *
When I’m lowered into my grave and all my loved ones disappear
The sins that once brought me pleasure now bring me only despair
I can feel the ground tighten, while my lungs feel the lack of air
I see not, there’s only darkness… only the void and gripping fear
How can I ever save myself from Munkar and from Nakeer
I couldn’t even restrain myself when Shaytaan whispered in my ear
Dead in dead silence, only the moving of the Earth I can hear
I hope in Allah’s mercy but I feel His justice is near
* * *
How weighty were my sins that they may tip my scale of deeds
I cry out in fear in my grave, yet not a single soul heeds
No friends, family or children to rescue me in my time of need
Even the joy that was air, I can longer enjoy to breathe
Every day, hour and second lived are roads that to my grave lead
The only thing left worth counting are the prayers upon prayer beads
What hope is there for me, who with his actions hadn’t believed
What hope is there for me if my beloved does not intercede?
* * *
O’ Allah protect me from the first night I spend in my grave
How apt is it that the Master is feared so much by His slave
Protect me from the day I watch all those I knew in life leave
And I am left shrouded and alone as a human heartbeat I crave
And the darkness is suffocating with not an ounce of air saved
And the fear is so overwhelming that no man can pretend he’s brave
And you wonder on who you’ve upset – who forgot and who forgave
For nothing can save you how save your deeds and what little you gave
* * *
When the width of the grave is tight, its narrowness causing me pain
And I can feel the crushing of earth, begging it to show restraint
And I can see small creatures moving, seeking blood in my bloodless veins
And Munkar and Nakeer appear, but I can’t get my tongue to explain
What refuge do I have, what sort of salvation can I attain
How I yearn just a day of life so that good deeds I can obtain
What slope will ever be steeper, what hope is there that remains
If in the grave I am not rescued by my beloved Hussain?
* * *
And though my tongue refuses to move, from my soul I’ll plead dearly
The same way I visited your grave, in my grave please visit me
Here crushed by the dust, I miss the scent of Karbala’s dust terribly
For when this world crushed me in life, it was in your shrine that I found relief
And when you come, don’t come alone, bring Abbas and his chivalry
For never have I cried Abu Fadhil and not be saved immediately
Together soothe my soul and ease the infliction on my body
For indeed Allah is merciful, and indeed you are that mercy
* * *
And on the Day of Judgement when mankind is in fear and shaken
And my scale does not tip to good deeds, but instead to evil and sin
I’ll call out to the King of Najaf, like a father called by his orphan
For I know that between his two hands rests both Hell and Heaven
I’ll bow my head in shame, for I am not among his best of men
But I hope that his love for me is as great as my love for him
For I prostrated to the Ka’ba knowing that he was born within
That Muhammad is Ali and Ali is him – no doubt and no question
* * *
In every moment of strife, a man calls out for his mother
And on this journey of death, I’ll yearn the rescue of Fatima
For it is she that is Heaven, and Heaven can be no other
And the pleasure of Fatima is indeed Allah’s pleasure
I hope that she notices me, for I have no worth without her
And if she turns away from me, no hell is greater torture
For every man yearns something, and every heart chases its desire
And I hope that I yearn no more than a glance from Fatima Zahra
* * *
It may be that we have good deeds but our sins are abundant
And to the facade that is this world we have no detachment
The flesh of brothers in our teeth makes our good deeds redundant
And for those who forsake their prayer is no salvation only torment
There is no hope for us sinners on the Day of Judgement
Which is why at the door of Fatima we bow down as servants
For if the Queen of Women notices us – even for a moment
Then perhaps on Judgment Day we can say we were triumphant
* * *
(London – 07/12/19)