Even if they take our souls
When they look deep into our eyes
They’ll see there your glorious shrine
And weep as our tongues still recite… “Ali”
* * *
The pupils in men’s eyes… known to be windows to the soul
If they peer into ours… they’ll see none, you’ve swallowed it whole
All they’ll see: laam and meem… as the ayn they crown and condole
And toward three letters… every inch of my being crawls
After you, there is no me
No inch left in my own being
Except that you I am seeing
Daily I’m living and breathing…… “Ali”
* * *
Other men are of clay… while we are made up of Najaf
Other men are of dust… while we are made up of belief
When we fall, when in pain… when we are drowning deep in grief
With the call: Ya Ali… the heart finds nothing but relief
In the remembrance of you
Hearts soften and become content
While its enemies still lament
With one name we are triumphant… … “Ali”
* * *
Let them loathe, let them hate… truth is truth, even if bitter
Let them foam and the mouth… cursed are those who betrayed Haidar
He was chosen by God… and how can mere men know better?
May truth live on our tongues… we take Haidar and no other
No love exists in our hearts
For those who stole from him a trust
As for power their hearts would lust
Leaving only one in dust… … Ali
* * *
It’s not new for our blood… to envied by the unclean
Those who see what they see… envy that we see the unseen
They see Muhammad dead… we see Muhammad as fourteen
They see an election… we see Amir Al-Momineen
Perhaps it’s that we are blind
For we see truth and only truth
The sword that once crushed Marhab’s tooth
A King where they just see a youth… Ali
* * *
Let them come with their swords… we’ll die still crying ‘Ya Ali’
Let them rip out our tongues… they’ll be reciting ‘Ya Ali’
The call of the living… and of the dying, ‘Ya Ali’
We earn from Karbala… swords clashing, calling ‘Ya Ali’
Let them fear our conviction
That when we call him, he’ll appear
Mighty, as he was at Ghadeer
And our last word their ears shall hear…… Ali
* * *
It won’t end with our deaths… for they shell see where we’re buried
In Najaf by his shrine… each dead body panting a seed
From that seed, love shall grow… by more your love shall be carried
And they’ll carry your flag… flying till the last breath they’ve breathed
And they too shall be hunted
For your love, for it is priceless
Every love they know is worthless
When we die, you will come to us… … Ali
* * *
Their pupils are circles… while ours come shaped just like your dome
And their souls are all lost… while our souls in your courtyard roam
They exist envious… that the land of Najaf is home
And they sleep with their sins… while we seep beside Ali’s tomb
Najaf’s dust flows in our veins
And we drink water from its sea
How grateful and blessed must we be
That daily we salute and see… Ali
* * *
(London – 23/01/23)