These tongues call for water
Bring water O’ Zahra
* * *
I am Zainab O’ mother, surrounded by tongues pierced by heat
Toward no shade, nor quenched thirst can these crying orphans retreat
And history in my eyes, I see it O’ mother repeat
Like our house burned, my tents burn, within the midst of our defeat
* * *
Zahra replies, my beloved, O’ mother of calamity
How can I come, when my womb sits within my body empty?
And in my rib pierced a nail, that pierced my veil and safety
My only veil now my shroud, as Haider buries my beauty
* * *
O’ my mother, my brother, lost his mind with each cry for thirst
His heart attuned to each scream, and with this ink it has been versed
The enemy at his sight, dropped their swords and in fear dispersed
Is that Abbas or Haider that against death’s plan has conversed
* * *
O’ my daughter know Haider had my name weaved within his veins
Even patience, with its chains, this lion could barely enchain
And if patience, this lion, had thrown away to blood attain
For my torn rib, upon a mountain of bodies he would reign
* * *
O’ my mother when I saw the wounds of your rib and your womb
I begged Haider, my father, bury me in my mother’s tomb
But he answered, my beloved, when my own wife my hands entomb
Her holy tomb stays hidden, within a shadow it shall bloom
* * *
O’ my daughter, the river, when to bring water it I reached
I saw Abbas for water from it had already beseeched
Yet I found him with no hands and banner that he outreached
And with hands, my beloved, I struck my thighs and pain I screeched
* * *
O’ mother, from your rib when by devil’s hand lay broken
It was from them that our house by enemies lay forsaken
Why else would we, your women, be in chains on deserts taken?
Why else would she, Ruqaya, meet her death when she was woken?
* * *
(London – 25/03/11)