I see a throne in my heart… there you sit – a work of art
A crown sits on your head… by my King I am led… Ya Hussain
* * *
I see a throne was built just beneath my chest
A chair of gold and diamond, a treasure chest
I hear it weep and I weep with my eyes wet
I hear it shake when I’d strike it and lament
Its gold seeps deep into my blood… calling the name of my beloved
‘Hussain’ it cries out, daily… six letters a part of me
By his love I am fed… by my King I am led… Ya Hussain
* * *
A King and there is no King just like my King
He commands me to move and move to my limbs
I grit my teeth, because this world can be grim
My jaw unclenches when I recite for him
My tongue is both knotted and tight… except when for him it recites
The words I use far from great… but his love gives my words weight
My words bow to his stead… by my King I am led… Ya Hussain
* * *
He sits, his palms are clenched onto its handles
Whatever problem I have Hussain handles
What are mountains? To move them I am able
He loves me, and that alone brings miracles
I need not arrows nor a sword… with his love, by me is my Lord
For even God Almighty… knows that his love is weighty
In His book it is read… by my King I am led… Ya Hussain
* * *
He sits on his throne and my King I salute
I’d recite his truth if it was the last truth
I’d use sign language if God made me mute
Show me injustice and I’ll tear out its root
The root of justice is Hussain… it turns wastelands into green plains
I walk the roads he walks on… hoping his steps I’d step on
In his footsteps I tread… by my King I am led… Ya Hussain
* * *
When I lament Hussain, my chest weeps with me
And when I bleed for him, I bleed profusely
My mind runs from me, seeing insanity
But I find love and truth watching my mind flee
And what is worth more than those two… secrets held onto by so few
Truth can be found in his love… and Hussain’s love is enough
Love is proclaimed and unsaid… by my King I am led… Ya Hussain
* * *
When I weep for Hussain, I weep for Akbar
I weep as the son leaves the fainting father
I weep watching Hussain cry out to Allah
Did they strike Akbar like the struck Haidar?
I weep as he pulls a spear out… of Akbar, as he screams and shouts
I weep knowing my Imam… has his son’s blood on his palms
His shaking hands blood-red… by my King I am led… Ya Hussain
* * *
I weep watching my Imam’s footsteps soften
By the river, as if his back is broken
I weep as heartbroken, he finds his backbone
With severed hands, a torn flask, a flag fallen
With no hands out cries out: Master… You say: just once, call me brother
An eagle with his wings clipped… his flag in his hand still gripped
It’s as if still he said… by my King I am led… Ya Hussain
* * *
I weep watching his two hands hold his infant
His child cooes, saying, I am triumphant
He thinks he may be quenched, just for a moment
The arrow strikes, his arms flail that instant
Hussain throws his blood to the sky… crying – for what sin did he die?
Because Hussain is my King… Ali Asghar is my prince
By Hussain’s love, his thirst quenched… by my King I am led… Ya Hussain
* * *
I weep because I know my sins are mighty
When when I die, scold me might the Almighty
But in Hussain, Allah poured all His mercy
And I have hope that my King shall rescue me
Indeed, he is my salvation… the crown upon my creation
My King and what a great King… I devote him everything
In his hands, placed my head… by my King I am led… Ya Hussain
* * *
(London – 23/01/23)