Who is it that’s angry? Abbas or it’s Ali
* * *
Who is it, that flashes from his sword thunder?
Every flash reveals the hero of Badr
From the charging moon like cattle they scatter
This is who his mother had named him Haider
From one they run away Abbas or it’s Ali
* * *
His battle-cry, mountains would hear if they could
His voice tears their eardrums like fire on wood
This is my Khandaq and this is my Uhud
These girls are Muhammad, you’re my Ibn Widd
Which lion wants its prey? Abbas or it’s Ali
* * *
He charges, a ship through soldiers left adrift
The river’s my Khaybar and its gate I’ll lift
I am Abbas and I’ve been given a gift
In battle, like my father, through death I drift
Whose is this voice, really? Abbas or it’s Ali
* * *
Run or stand in awe and bask at my marvel
My sword thirsts for your heads with the ground level
This is Karbala and this is my Jamal
Today I’ll cut the legs off Yazid’s camel
Which one’s sword is thirsty? Abbas or it’s Ali
* * *
This is Sofeen and I picture an image
Its ink like fuel that flows to ignite my rage
They held Qurans on spears, you hold Hussain’s age
Since birth I’ve been chained but you’ve rattled my cage
Who to charge is ready? Abbas or it’s Ali
* * *
He tears his roots, toward the river he leaves
His sword tears apart waves of bodies like leaves
Each enemy’s mother for their child grieves
Through Abbas’s blood the blood of Ali weaves
Anger of him heavy Abbas or it’s Ali
* * *
Is the zeal of Ali, Abbas reliving?
Or is the lion in my brother living?
Are they both returning, or are they leaving?
For which one will, alone, Zainab be grieving?
She weeps a tragedy Abbas or it’s Ali
* * *
(Orlando – 31/08/13)