When the Skies Wept Blood

Poem 16: Hussain's shrine

How have I been granted the honour of sitting near your eminence once again,
The site of your shrine alone is sustenance,
Inside my heart began flickering a flame,
Your name is like honey on the tongues that with your light became,
I took a pen and wrote a few lines,
But in your name,
Poetry it became.

And this poetry runs on my lips,
Like the blood that pulses through my veins,
I saw your golden shrine and forgot my own pains,
I have no fault but loving Hussain is my blame,
And if calling your name is a sin,
Then Hell my being became.

When I think of your story,
I see great tragedy yet there is a never ending beauty,
If your shrine was a fountain,
For you, we are thirsty.

What a selfless sacrifice,
You paid for hate with your life,
You smiled in the face of atrocities,
With your hands,
The sun and the moon,
You buried.

I remember visiting you and standing beneath Karbala's sky,
Where lovers like birds would flock just for Hussain
to cry,
Your love does need reason,
You never ask why,
As you stand beside the shrine of the slaughtered one,
And testify under Karbala's sun,
Zahra's son is the pure one,
Like him, there is no one,
He is the reason for our existence,

Our tears flow for you,
From a pain no one else knew,
By drinking these tears,
We grew,
Our hearts pumped this love for you.

I ask God to protect your shrine,
To send my salaam to your young princess until the end of time,
To protect our countries from terror and crime.
To protect your faithful followers from danger.

I do not know how I am so lucky today,
To write these words and to the heavens pray,
Oh Lord,
Please do not lead us astray,
Let us follow your example,
Your path,
your way,
Let these tears flow always,
As we fast and pray,
Keep us strong and faithful to our master,
Aba Abdillah Hussain
Let us every year,
Relive but a small ounce of your pain,
Let us all come and visit you again and again.