She sits on her throne a queen… no one like Ummul Baneen
Royalty becomes of those… who selflessly serve Hussain
* * *
There sits upon Earth a throne… at its head there are feathers
That once belonged to Abbas… and by it angels flutter
On its seat sits a woman… a cloaked, hooded Tholfiqar
Upon Ummul Baneen’s throne… sits the loved one of Haidar
With the armour of her sons… sits at her feet, their weapons
As circle her and her throne… do all moons, planets and suns
* * *
How selfless can one soul be… mothers are bound to their sons
But for Allah and Hussain… she sacrificed every one
She held them once as infants… knowing well what would become
And still she says faithfully… how I wish my sons were ten
If I were in Karbala… I’d not shed a single tear
Not when they had left the camps… nor when rained upon them spears
* * *
She sits on her throne a queen… at her service is Hajar
“Like my beloved Ibrahim… you sacrificed for Allah”
Her sons flag fixed on her throne… knots tied on it by lovers
O’ lovers of Hussain ask… from her wherever you are
She is a door to wishes… every hand it confesses
When we’re raised with a desire… granted and given it is
* * *
Ummul Baneen is the queen… of each servant of Hussain
We serve with sincerity… learning from Ummul Baneen
She sews the black that we wear… if only her sons we’d been
She’d have sacrificed our souls… and still wish more she’d given
Every servant of Hussain… must salute Ummul Baneen
For if Hussain is our king… then his mother is our queen
* * *
May my back became crooked… holding Abbas’s flag high
May my eye become confused… whenever it doesn’t cry
And may the cry of Haidar… be the last cry that I’ve cried
To die in Hussain’s service… and be Ummul Baneen’s pride
May my hand feel broken… when it does not do latom
And maybe then my mother… will be proud of her children
* * *
(Dearborn – 01/08/22)