Go to sleep my precious sons… on the day of setting suns
Goodbye my sons Aun and Muhammad
* * *
O’ day in which I’ve seen the setting of suns that won’t rise
Forgive me if for my sons you won’t see tears in my eyes
There are too many others that are in need of my cries
My sons there are seventy others… that have upon them weeping mothers
Burnt out candles and blood-red feathers
* * *
Forgive me sons if in death you don’t hear your mother weep
I see nothing but beauty, watching you in your blood sleep
But my eyes are distracted watching fire in tents seep
I know you lay there in that desert… but I’m choked by smoke and my lungs hurt
Yearning the scent of Abbas’s shirt
* * *
How can I weep for the sons that my arms would once cradle
When I watch the smoke and wind sway Asghar’s empty cradle
And see Rabab’s skin turned grey as she stands by it, idle
Our throats strangled by smoke in the air… yearning patience whilst yearns us despair
As they cry “where is our father, where”
* * *
If I weep for you, who will weep for that candle burnt out
The lion cub of Mojtaba, his body thrown about
The child who wed the sword in faith with no ounce of doubt
I can’t leave Farwa mourning alone… for the strikes that reached her child’s bone
The groom that chose dust before a throne
* * *
Forgive me Aun if my eyes forget you and your brother
In Akbar’s body I see Muhammad my grandfather
And his head was struck just like my father’s head in Kufa
I saw an Ali’s head struck again… two Alis were too much, O’ what pain
And by him fell his father Hussain
* * *
How shy I am to weep and catch my tears with my two hands
When I see the hands of my Abbas strewn upon the sands
When usually I call his name and straight away he stands
I called his name complaining of thirst… but watched as the whites of his eyes burst
Before his flag fell, Abbas fell first
* * *
I will not weep on you, nor will I provide you a shroud
Because for Hussain’s broken body, no shroud was allowed
Like your Master, when your heads are raised on spears, raise them proud
And when I see each head on a spear… forgive me if I don’t shed a tear
I weep for the head of my brother
* * *
(London – 08/11/15)