On the trail of blood and tears this lady stands
She raises her hands recalling Abbas’s hands
Shrouded by the wings of Abbas upon these lands
The night prayer begins to obey Zainab’s commands
She does takbir, she does takbir
Among the ash, among the blood
She does takbir
* * *
At the age of fifty-five, she looks one hundred
With a bent back, stands in worship to her Lord
The resilience of Zainab unmatched, unwavered
It’s as if prostrating was Haider’s two-pronged sword
A tholfiqar… a tholfiqar
Is lost in worship to Allah
A tholfiqar
* * *
In a sight that makes Zainab age a thousand years
She cleans the wounds of her Ruqaya’s wounded ears
Among the widows and severed heads upon spears
What is worth more than Zainab’s heartbreaking night prayers?
Her broken heart… her broken heart
Seeks comfort in the Lord of all
Her broken heart
* * *
Whenever in pain from the whips on her body
She recalls the swords on Hussain son of Ali
Not a woman in prayer but a mountain mighty
She recalls the wounds of Hussain in her tasbeeh
She does tasbeeh, she does tasbeeh
Seventeen-hundred times, Zainab
She does tasbeeh
* * *
As if time is non existent upon Shaam’s plains
She seeks forgiveness for the servants of Hussain
As the women wail on the butchered and slain
She mentions us, servant by servant, name by name
They won’t forget.. they won’t forget
O’ lord forgive Hussain’s servants
They won’t forget
* * *
(Dearborn – 28/05/22)