How can I… Close my eye…
And not wish that I see you before again my eye opens?
And I wish… My anguish…
Is worth but a glimpse from you when I drown in a sea of sins
On that Day of Judgement… Remember your servant
* * *
I speak to a love that makes me, out of care
Prepare for despair like for prayer I prepare
I wash with the tears my eyes shed, yet hold dear
And pray on the only dust sweeter than air
My prayer beads… For you bleed…
Counting the bodies that lay ridden upon your sweet desert
My night prayer… Is despair…
Recalling your loneliness as Hussain the world would desert
When alone you lament… Remember your servant
* * *
How many oceans for you have flowed from eyes?
And more eyes have wept for you than stars in skies
And the one who weeps whenever each tear dries
Does he get a glimpse from your eyes when he dies?
When buried… Like a seed…
He awaits the light of your face which allows him to blossom
All alone… Dust and bone…
There is no pleasure in hereafter if you do not greet him
To become triumphant… Remember your servant
* * *
They call Ashura a day, it’s not a day
Twenty-four hours yet it makes the year sway
It was not the day that would make Wahab stay
Like Wahab, Master you can’t keep me away
If you’d said… To home head…
I’d reply, “O’ Master, what is home when you are a stranger?”
And I swear… My mother…
Like Wahab’s mother would throw my severed head back to Shimr
Found in a land, distant… Remember your servant
* * *
I know that between us sits a thousand years
But I know what transcends time, and it’s my tears
When you call “Zuhair” and “Burayr” my soul hears
My pen is my sword and my words are my spears
O’ Master… I falter…
Every day thinking that the love of my Master will save me
But I write… Day and night…
As it makes my soul bleed knowing I can’t lift your tragedy
When my sins they present… Remember your servant
* * *
I see John when through the veils of time I peek
I’m proud to have you whilst race makes others weak
Like John, when I die and can no longer speak
O’ my Master place your cheek upon my cheek
My heart breaks… My soul shakes…
Asking if you look at me like you look at John – feeling proud
Words are few… I beg you…
Don’t turn me away when I come to you in shame, my head bowed
Make my scent like John’s scent… Remember your servant
* * *
I have broken time, as to your name I’m bound
In your majlis, Hussain your Ansar I’ve found
I see Muslim reciting, and what a sound
I see Habib in maatam, shaking the ground
Beside him… Is Qassim…
Crying “O’ youth don’t get tired, for my uncle is watching”
And Ramla… His mother…
Sits beside Rabab and Zainab and Layla, all are crying
Master, what a moment… Remember your servant
* * *
God reached me through you, through you I reach my Lord
And your spilt blood confused the turn of this world
And the Lord’s throne shook when from your neck, blood poured
What else can make me strike my head with a sword?
Please forgive… What I give…
It’s not worth a drop in the ocean of what you gave away
They loathe me… Say “crazy”…
But all I think of is wishing the swords took me on your day
You know of my intent… Remember your servant
* * *
Forgive me Master if I cannot keep calm
Twelve strikes on the neck of my beloved Imam
Extend your hand to me and I’ll grab your palm
Throw myself upon you so you’re not brought harm
I’m wailing… Recalling…
One thousand and seventy wounds upon my beloved’s body
And your soul… Would struggle…
Trying to depart from a body so broken and bloody
When none remain patient… Remember your servant
* * *
(Beirut – 05/12/14)