Just like scent brings back memories… leaving us to smile or despair
I recall the wails of orphans… each time I smell Karbala’s air
* * *
Sometimes we come across a place… and we recall we were once here
We recall things that happened here… events that happened here and there
When I return to Karbala… I see tragedy everywhere
Every sight tells a tragedy… that is soothed only by a tear
* * *
When my feet step upon that dust… and the scent of the dust’s rising
I recall seventy-two men… that with blood held an uprising
Each man left a house of orphans… and though they left children crying
If they were killed a thousand times… to return to fight, they’d all swear
* * *
Whenever I see children cry… it is a sight that breaks my heart
But when I recall some orphans… their story tears this heart apart
When I hear their tongues were thirsty… I feel my soul from me depart
When I hear they ran from fire… this picture turns grey all my hair
* * *
Whenever I see a mother… with the spark of despair in them
Complaining of their son’s absence… wishing for but a sight of him
I see Ramla striking her head… crying out: “where is my Jassim?”
And Layla wailing in her tent… “Come back O’ my Ali Akbar”
* * *
Whenever I become thirsty… and I kneel to sip a drink
I hold the water in my hands… what I recall makes my heart sink
I recall Abbas with water… recalling children on death’s brink
He throws the water from his hands… and the canteen on his shoulder
* * *
When I see something break in two… like when from men hearts are taken
I recall two broken apart… and my being is left shaken
Whenever I see something break… I recall a back was broken
A brother fell for his brother… and of hands he had not a pair
* * *
Upon the Earth’s curve the sun sets… as if the sun the Earth swallows
I ask how can earth swallow suns… if they are ridden with arrows
How did the earth accept Hussain… in his absence no river flows
If Earth knew he was within it… mountains from their places would tear
* * *
I ponder when I see his dome… on all the supporting pillars
By how many is it held up… but suddenly my heart withers
Only one spear had held his head… upon its blade his blood gathers
Millions come beside his dome…. but once there were none anywhere
* * *
(London – 28/06/14)