I walk for Hussein

I walk through the valleys and the shadows of the death that surrounds me

Entrenched in the smell of blood lingering in my soul

Searching for their stories repeatedly told and simultaneously ignored

And I walk

I walk and I stumble on the remains of those who passed before me

Sacrificing their life for that eternal glory?

No, to them death is sweeter than honey

And I’m taken back by the feeling that overwhelms me

As I walk and spot Hussein sitting in the dirt

His face buried in his hands

His back slouching at the pain of the loss of his brother Abbas

His eyes searching for the sight of Ali Akbar

Unable to count the losses on his hands

I move closer

I trip over my mind as it becomes enthralled and captured by their sight

As a shiver runs down my spine and the blood drains from my face

I am suddenly freezing in the summer heat of the desert land that is Karbala

I am inching my way closer to a man who’s lost all

And I’m wondering at his pain

Unable to muster up a call to him,

I’m shaken

I hear Hussein mumbling to himself

Captivated, I listen intently

I listen intently eager to hear a complaint

Yet all I hear is praise

I ask him “O Hussein,

Have you ever felt insane?

At the sacrifices that you were ordained

How do you bear this wretched pain

Without aggression and disdain?”

He utters not a single word in my direction

Filled with awe, I follow as he walks in his direction

And takes me to the body of al-Abbas

I’m standing next to the river

My arms, they quiver

Perhaps alluding to Abbas’s pain

I follow and hear the sounds of the river crying out for forgiveness to the Almighty

Not leaving out His praise

Yet grieving for the arm-less who was slain at its bay

And I understand

The strength those arms carried can preserve Islam’s name till eternity

So who am I to question his tragedy?

We move further along where lies the body of Ali Akbar

And as pangs of discomfort clutch at my heart

I see his body with a mark on his chest

And yet the light of the Prophet emulates in his face

Suddenly, I hear the call to prayer in every morning and every night

and every morning and every night

until the hereafter

For the adhan of Ali Akbar on the fajr of Ashura

Is still ringing in my ears to this day

I walk after Hussein who takes me to the grave of Ali Asghar

I sit next to him

He says, “To Him we belong and to Him we shall return”

And I am smiling at His magnificence

When a six month old can give to He who is infinite and great

Where am I in the struggle to maintain that grace?

And Hussein’s mumbling is invariably new

And the mumbling of Hussein is invariably new

I hear praise of the Almighty and the justice that’s due

And I walk with this love ingrained for Hussein

In the midst of what’s grave and mundane

I walk for Hussein

I walk for Hussein

Source: shafaqna.com