My sons… were lions
I wish.. they were ten
And died… for Hussain
My king… my king…
* * *
I am known as Ummul Baneen… because my lions were four
But as the angels celebrate me… I only wish I had more
My four sons were only servants… worth no more than tears that pour
Call them pilgrims born to circle… the Ka’ba that Zahra bore
Four moons… for a sun
By him.. they’re no-one
But slaves… born for one
My king… my king..
* * *
My sons are mere servants born to serve their king
Everything is nothing, Hussain’s everything
To moon for sacrifice from the skies I’d bring
With severed hands I promised my Abbas wings
Abbas… my mountain
Would fall.. for Hussain
What pride… in serving
My king.. my king
* * *
If Allah put Earth in my hand… I’d give this Earth to Hussain
Let him have all at that exists… until only he remains
Let Shimr take every human… and from Hussain back away
Let the Earth collapse to nothing… just keep safe Karbala’s plains
All lands… are worthless
While his… is priceless
Because… it is his
My king.. my king
* * *
Let servants see me as their pride and their Queen
My throne made of sons, if only more they’d been
None can match me like my Abbas at Soffeen
My sacrifice greater than men’s or beings
I live.. to uplift
My king… I exist
To serve… I am his
My king.. my king..
* * *
(Dearborn – 13/06/22)