Don’t despair… I may not have my hands
But I’m here… holding onto your hands
You can find hope, when all fails… in the hands of Abu Fadhil… don’t despair
* * *
When the world brings you to your knees
And in an ocean of worries… you suffocate
When you’re suffering all alone
Grief more painful than broken bone… hope cannot wait
There is a place where exists hope
It’s journey short, level its slope… knock on its gate
To ensure despair does not last
Allah put hope in Al-Abbas… Allah is great
Knock his door… cry Allahu Akbar
God made me poor… and rich, the flagbearer
Generosity, from its cradle s… in the hands of Abu Fadhil… don’t despair
* * *
Yes, Allah did create despair
But like there’s ocean, yet there’s air… he made a door
A door open when all are closed
Open since Khaybar’s was opened… a door of cure
Everything has an opposite
Where there is grief, Abbas knows it… that’s what he’s for
Without being asked, he is there
Granting wishes, soothing despair… and so much more
He stands tall… for lovers of Hussain
Idols fall… while Abbas, he remains
Heavenly hope for those in hell … in the hands of Abu Fadhil… don’t despair
* * *
I am the son of the sole one
Who stood by Ahmed when all ran… this is our worth
The sons of Ali don’t return
Any who come with dreams they yearn… this is our oath
We don’t shudder for a moment
We seek out what is difficult… and call it forth
When, once, hands Karbala would yearn
My right and left, fought between them… I gave it both
Two feathers… on my helmet, they dream
To be birds… and fly to those in need
Can one know me and still be frail… in the hands of Abu Fadhil… don’t despair
* * *
If you have children who are ill
Or parents not long for this world…for Abbas call
My prayer is like no other prayer
When I call out, my Lord, He hears… He grants me all
Do not doubt me, Abu Fadhil
I make difficult possible… bring me trials
When I raise up my handless arms
Allah Himself tells me Salaam… Abu Fadhil
Do not fear… if it’s not meant to be
Allah hears… through me better He’ll bring
There is a door to the Lord’s will… in the hands of Abu Fadhil… don’t despair
* * *
I am not the son of Haider
If I don’t mend hearts of Shia… that are broken
I’m no son of Ummul Baneen
If I don’t soothe those that from pain… are left shaken
I have no hand, but take my arm
Clench to it tightly with your palm… show me your pain
We’ll fight through it, I’ll lead the way
It will be hard, keep your head high… until we’ve won
When my head… was raised upon a spear
None would dread… as high it would appear
The height of virtue and morals… in the hands of Abu Fadhil… don’t despair
* * *
Together, we’ll fight through your pain
Just promise me, when it’s been slain… we’ll mourn Hussain
If you are alone or lonely
He died a stranger while thirsty… his child slain
In his arm, he held his infant
With no water to provide him… and he’d complain
As even his enemy cried
He threw Asghar’s blood to the sky… blood it would rain
All trials… are made to recall him
Strike your chest… and I’ll strike mine handless
The revival of his tale… in the hands of Abu Fadhil… don’t despair
* * *
(San Francisco – 16/04/18