Muharram brings with its crescent, Muharram
The smell of burning tents and ash inside them
And with the dawn… we cry and mourn… for our Master
* * *
When your crescent arrives we see it is glistening
But not with light, with Hussain’s blood you are bleeding
And in your shadow we see smoke that is rising
As if the tents of Ali’s daughters are burning
We hear a voice, calling whoever is listening
“Is there anyone to help me?” it is pleading
All alone Ali’s lion cub, all alone
As if even his flesh has run from his bone
Left all alone… we cry and mourn.. for our Master
* * *
A women pleads your night extends after Maghrib
When your dawn breaks it breaks the heart of our Zainab
The daughter of Haider the killer of Marhab
Does not want to see Ali Asghar’s empty crib
She does not want to see another broken rib
Or see the orphans by the men of Yazid grabbed
Ruqaya will be there confused, Ruqaya
Wondering why her father is not with her
Hussain has gone… we cry and mourn.. for our Master
* * *
Muharram as you descend you shall crown a prince
After you’ve crowned him his mother mourns his absence
He enters Karbala a light of innocence
But shall become a man in all his valiance
He stands in his father’s armour and his fragrance
And leaves his mother to cry out in her grievance
My Qassim was dragged on the ground, my Qassim
He dragged his sword on the ground till they killed him
My heart is torn… we cry and mourn.. for our Master
* * *
Muharram your crescent leaves Layla’s heart in dread
When Akbar leaves she wishes her soul left instead
O’ Allah return him just like Yusuf she pled
Hussain brought Akbar back, blood flowing from his head
She cries seeing her son fallen and his blood shed:
Is that Ali fallen or is it Muhammad?
O’ Layla take your fallen son O’ Layla
You watched him grow now watch him leave forever
He has fallen… we cry and mourn.. for our Master
* * *
Muharram when we see that your crescent is born
We see a moon above us with his two hands torn
It’s as if the name of Abbas on you is drawn
Hoping that you’ll comfort Hussain’s thirsty orphans
We hear a voice that breaks the heart and makes us mourn
Crying out: “after you my back has been broken”
My brother I can’t carry on, my brother
For your two hands I would throw back the water
A back broken…… we cry and mourn… for our Master
* * *
Muharram hearts cannot bear the grief that you bring
When you descend we hear the angels lamenting
The angels heard the pure heart of Hussain breaking
And Hussain heard Ali Asghar’s heart stop beating
From his small neck the blood of his infant flowing
As Rabab cries: “why has my Asghar stopped crying?”
The arrow pierced your infant’s neck the arrow
I saw his arms flutter when he felt its blow
Goodbye my son…… we cry and mourn… for our Master
* * *
(London – 20/08/20)