Posts from the “Poetry” Category

what we claim

Posted on December 26, 2019

Would that I had been there in Karbala, My life would have been given for Hussain, How often does this thought upon me gnaw— My blood would have been spilled upon those plains. With confidence, I claim I would have been Amongst those noble few who lived to die, Unflinching, facing death, their band was seen— While I have often shuddered facing life. For my Imam, what arrows have I dodged, Allowing them to strike his heart instead? How often have I marked his rivals’ calls, Drawing the map which leads them to his tent?   Be wary, tongue, you are not crushed by what you proudly claim: For weighty is the status of the comrades of Hussain.

the shepherd

Posted on December 14, 2019

The shepherd has but gone over the hill,The setting sun has but few hours to rise—Yet with the dark has fled our pasture’s will,Waking is left now only for the wise.Our withered flock now wanders to and fro,While on the path few track our herder’s steps;We sit and wail, drawing the wolves below,While few seek higher ground for this night’s test.If day will come, our shepherd will come home,In what way will he find us on life’s plain—With heavy hearts will we now idly roam?Or will our grief drive us to seek his reign?Do not forget, our death calls to our birth:Muhammad’s son still walks upon this earth.

these nights

Posted on September 3, 2019

these nights carry within their folds a song which breaks the heart, and by such, then lives on the pierce comes soft, the ache, it never ends once tasted, this, a wound which never mends   stirring on trees, a fragrant symphony rising on stars, blazing your memory worlds vanish, now, there’s only you and I great silence, under tapestry of sky   around us waits, lonely expanse of land once more a child, you take me by the hand with trembling steps towards the days of yore a blood-dimmed tide, a whistling desert shore   as we draw near, my heart begins to pound my soul knows well the sadness of this ground something tells me that I’ve been here before as if…

my guide

Posted on April 26, 2019

my heart’s rapture holds the momentwhen I first glanced upon your facewhen all that mattered disappearedand you remained there in its place   when we first met, you did not speakyet until now, your voice I hearand though the miles stretch out farby the soul’s standard, you are near   I came to you in summer’s heatwith weary limbs and aching solesupon your doorstep I then fellfeeling, at last, I had come home   resting your hand upon my headyou wiped my journey’s dust awaywith you I sat, you marked the pathfor one who’d wandered long astray   above us rose a blooming moonits light extinguished all the starsand it was then I realizedI am there only where you are   for years, the…

there is a tale

Posted on September 10, 2018

there is a tale that aches the heart whose telling tears its seams apart a thousand years of flowing tears which call: ya Hussain   there was a band of noble few who left behind all that they knew to fight the fight of dark and light their chief, al-Hussain   of young and old their party made both valiant men and women brave with noble brows this noble vow til death! ya Hussain   with scorching days and bitter nights the barren desert marked their plight the wound struck first — the children’s thirst their cry, ya Hussain   the enemy in thousands came crooked their cause, lowly their aim blinded by greed prepared their steeds to kill… ya Hussain…   the river…

nothing but beauty

Posted on October 1, 2017

ya Zaynab, the time has come to bid Hussain farewell horrors to pass the looming of a bloody moon foretells   ya Zaynab, with the rising of Ashura’s sun to come to the aid of your Hussain there will be left no one   ya Zaynab, to the battlefield he is to go and will shower down upon him rain of merciless arrows   ya Zaynab, facing thousands he’ll stand as one yet all will scatter from the sword of Ali’s fearless son   ya Zaynab, seeing light, the darkness will be scared more archers will be signaled and more swordsmen prepared   ya Zaynab, then wounds on wounds will kiss his skin, and when they do the enemy will start to circle in……

the smallest acts

Posted on September 30, 2017

there have been times an infant this has shown that age does not define how much you know the wisdom that we look for in the skies is oft found in the youngest child’s cries   there have been times without having to speak servants of God managed the greatest deeds unrecognized by servants of this world young soldiers in the service of their Lord   such tyrants history had come to see the likes of which before there’d never been yet, by this Pharaoh’s reign would come to end— a infant’s basket down the river bend   such miracles which had not yet been done Maryam, untouched, had given birth—a son protect his mother, Isa had been able words spoken by one resting…