A promise Allah made on that day:
Blessings lie by the door of Hussain
Heaven sits at the feet of his grave
How blessed… his lovers
* * *
Blessed
Are those that know of his name
Whose eyes just cannot refrain
From crying upon Hussain
Always
Distressed
Those hearts that hear his story
On Judgment, without worry
All they shall see is glory
That day
If we were to count backward from Heaven
The first in line would be Hussain’s servants
Hussain… Hussain…
They shall not fear for even a moment
Repaired are those hearts that were once broken
Hussain.. Hussain..
How lucky shall be those eyes that wept?
Eyes wide in mourning while others slept
When they dreamt, of Karbala they dreamt
How blessed.. his lovers
* * *
Like ash
Their pure hearts would all become
When approach would Muharram
As if with the tents they burn
Again
They’d hush
When his dome would change its flag
With their souls, from red to black
As arrives his broken back…
Hussain
Like his back all their hearts are broken
Heavier words than anything spoken
Hussain.. Hussain..
The faith in their souls would then awaken
As they’d wish that these same souls were taken
Hussain… Hussain…
Charred faces like the face of Zainab
Their hearts swaying just like empty cribs
And as the tenth comes, bend do their ribs
How blessed… his lovers…
* * *
The eyes
Do not see what their eyes see
They live in realms of belief
That makes life for them a dream
Indeed
His shrine
Is not a tomb made of gold
Rather, it’s an active throne
Which their love and King sits on
And heeds
To them Hussain is no ghost or folklore
They kneel before him and implore
Hussain.. Hussain…
He was their love now, after and before
Wiping eyes whenever they become sore
Hussain… Hussain..
For them, their road that leads to Allah
Leads them directly through Karbala
Their Imam is Aba Abdillah
How blessed.. his lovers
* * *
Their love
May challenge what you know of
How much human hearts can love
Joins them angels from above
To mourn
Never
Will you hear their wailing end
To them, all life is pretend
Until black thobes are opened
And worn
You’ll find them inside shrines lamenting
As angels to join them are descending
Hussain.. Hussain..
Poets bathed in ash stand there reciting
For them Muhammad himself is praying
Hussain.. Hussain…
Stuck somewhere between their lives and deaths
They have surrendered their very breath
To the one who by the Lord is blessed
How blessed… his lovers
* * *
Is far from a worthy word
In them you shall find ruptured
Their ear drums, for they have heard
His cries
What flows
Is not tears or blood, but love
They give, but never enough
If God did not hold their hearts
They’d die
No amount of tears shall ever help them
In sufficing their sorrow upon him
Hussain… Hussain…
And yet each tear shall be their salvation
The most blessed of all creation
Hussain… Hussain…
No you may never understand them
But know time itself fights with their limbs
To stop them from running to aid him
How blessed… his lovers
* * *
Dallas – 29/08/22