Déjà Vu

We wake up in the morning and partake in our formalities

We open the paper, switch on the news, and see all forms of atrocities

Bombings over here, gunshots over there and such is the frequency

That these acts have no longer become insanity

God forbid I say, that they are somewhat a normality

But even writing these words brings pain to my heart

When did you have the audacity to start?

Tearing Allah’s world apart

Where did you get the right to take someone’s life?

When the God you claim to worship warned you of their right

Who gave you the authority to make a decision?

About who can and cannot practice their religion

But then...

But then I step back and re-evaluate history

And realise that today’s events are no longer a mystery

Because in one afternoon, I saw a brutal summary

Of all today’s oppression and tyranny

And these events live long in my memory

So when I see the headlines the news are relaying

They often come under the title: BREAKING

But for me, these calamities are hardly in the present 

They are merely a repetition of what happened on a desert

I turn on the news to discover a suicide bomber

Has entered a mosque as a Shi’a undercover

He blows up the mosque whilst worshippers pray

And to their Lord this is the last act they display

But then my mind casts back to the land of Karbala

When Husayn stops a battle to pray to Allah

But instead of joining, without hesitation

These ‘Muslims’ shoot arrows whilst he’s in prostration

But two noble companions come to his protection

And lay down their lives, so that we attain salvation

I turn on the news and find that in Peshawar

A school in the blood of children is showered

And I see the public in shock at the lack of mercy

‘These are just children but there’s no empathy’

But then my mind casts back to the land of Karbala

When a twelve year old boy asks to fight for his master

As he bends down to tie his shoe that has been undone

The enemies surround him and strike him one by one

And Husayn runs to his aid with utmost concern

But from this boy, what a story we learn

That in this transient world that is governed by power and money

He confidently says, ‘for truth, death is sweeter than honey’

I turn on the news and find video footage being spread

Of ISIS militants warning of the next victim they’ll behead

And in the midst of these threatening warnings

After a new story of death when I wake up in the morning 

I turn my attention to my period of mourning

And my mind casts back to the land of Karbala

When 72 heads from their bodies have departed

And in celebration of this massacre a party has started

So whilst the world is in shock regarding ISIS’ capability

My mind is all too familiar with this inevitability

Because in Karbala, these people had the audacity

To ensure that the family of the Prophet were slain

To the extent that not a single body remained

I turn on the news and on my screen I see

A picture of a helpless refugee

Who lies there dead, right next to the sea

And afterwards I observe the public reaction

Who rightly demand that our governments take action

Because the sight of a boy laying on the sand

Should be enough reason to take a stand

But then my mind casts back to the land of Karbala

Where I see Husayn lay his newborn on the scorching sand

And requests these enemies to feed him with their hands

But instead an arrow pierces his neck

And the number of prongs I have to double-check

For surely three prongs is too many for such an infant child

But the story of Karbala is such that nothing was too wild

I saw a man who was willing to be slaughtered

And bear the pain of knowing that his women will be brutally tortured

Knowing that they will be countlessly whipped
Knowing that the jewellery from their ears will be ruthlessly ripped
Knowing that of the Hijab on their heads they will be mercilessly stripped

But behind Karbala’s tragedy is a message of inspiration

Which is why you see his shrine with people from every nation

Because he did what he did with the purest of intentions

Husayn taught me that the power of justice will kill any oppression

So despite humanity being in a clear state of regression

Tyranny will fail

And the truth will prevail.

Yazid died.

Husayn lives.

Journey to Paradise

Assalamu Alayka Ya Ameerul Mu'mineen

These parting words uttered as you take his blessed leave

As you prepare to embark on this holy mission 

You request for the father’s permission

To visit his son, the saviour of our religion

As you set out on your journey, from Najaf to Karbala

It is always painful to leave the shrine of Ali

No place on Earth has that level of serenity

But then every footstep your mind anticipates

Zaynab and Sajjad's struggles, you're about to emulate

In this walk to Husayn, millions participate

And your excitement begins to grow

By walking, your allegiance to Husayn you show

You let the enemies know

That you're Husayni, from head to toe

And no

We will never forget Husayn

As you start your voyage, you begin to observe

The extent to which locals yearn to serve

Tell me a place where your eyes have seen

20 million people, all fed for free

The generosity of locals humbles you to the core

For you, the Zuwaar, they give their wealth and more

Bread they will bake, chai they will pour

And our minds cast back to our life in the west

Luxuries aplenty, our facilities the best

Our problems so trivial, yet we complain

But then you see an orphan who only knows of pain

But her hopes kept alive through the love of Husayn

And this is the beauty of this walk to Karbala

You look to the left and see a little toddler

And then to your right to see someone decades older

Every age group, gender, nation comes together

The CEO walks in unison with the beggar

Rich or poor, from near or afar

Everyone is here for Aba Abdillah

Your walk to Karbala will be physically straining

Your muscles will tire; your feet will be aching

At times you may want to quit and just stop walking

But ignore these feelings, it’s just Shaytaan talking

Because every single step is blessed by Allah

Each step equivalent to 100 Hajj and Umrah

So when you feel the sun bears down on you

Before you complain

Remember Sajjad and his sharpened chains

When your limbs begin to ache, remember Husayn’s sister

As you continue to walk, your feet may have blisters

But at least you won’t be dealing with the whips of Shimr

As you continue to walk, your brother will be by your side

You won’t be remembering the moment he died

Sisters, as you continue to walk, your Hijab will be in tact

There won’t be a threat that your veil will be snatched

The moment you’re thirsty, you’ll have access to water

Remember the thirst of Imam Husayn’s daughter

When your limbs tire, on your brother you can lean

Remember Abbas, son of Ummul Baneen

And at the end of the day, you’ll have the whole night to rest

Remember Sakina’s face, when someone else was on Husayn’s chest

For when you complete this walk to Sayyed Al-Shuhada

And step foot in the premises of Husayn and his brother

You’ll look up from your slump and such a sight will appear

Awe-struck and in shock, any pain will disappear

As you’re overwhelmed on seeing Abbas’ golden dome

At that very moment, Karbala becomes your home

You begin to realise why this is heaven on Earth

You understand why Karbala, to miracles gives birth

A look at the holy dome, you see a fraction of Husayn’s worth

Some people cry, others faint

In disbelief that they’ve been invited to visit this Saint

But as the tears begin to drop, it becomes reality

You’re in Karbala, Jannah’s capital city

Utterly humbled, you walk to Baynul Haramayn

On one side Abbas, on the other, Imam Husayn

Sayyeda Zaynab: Lioness of Allah

Behind the success of a man, a woman I find 

But this is no ordinary woman; she's one of a kind 

For her strength to see what she saw 

To hear what she heard, to say what she said 

Despite seeing her entire family lay dead 

Show me a woman like her and I'll praise her instead

Remember, not a tear did Zaynab shed 

For her sons Aun and Muhammad 

Until she went back and saw their empty beds

And here her strength and sacrifice is shown 

For when Husayn's companions and family were slain

She knew that alone and isolated he’d remain

And no one would be left to mourn and comfort his mother 

So Zaynab reserves her tears for her lonely brother 

But her battle didn't when Husayn they'd behead 

In fact her challenges had only just got started

Yet Zaynab had the courage to look ahead 

Knowing that Islam’s message would be hers to spread 

Whilst Sajjad from sickness lay on his deathbed

And out of tears for her father, Sakina would lay dead 

Yet still so valiantly from the forefront she led

And this is why I cannot understand

When these people from so-called 'Muslim' lands 

Claim that to men, women are inferior

I ask them if they saw Zaynab in Syria

For what a sermon she delivered 

Yazid in his throne - he quivered 

The bravery of a lady left him utterly bewildered 

But what else can be expected from the daughter of Ali?

The one unmatched in honour and bravery 

What else can be expected from the daughter of Fatima?

In dignity and justice, her mother she would mirror 

When I think of Zaynab, I think of resistance 

For the truth she fought with such persistence 

So that you and I can have a noble existence 

And her role in Karbala gives us a valuable lesson 

That regardless of the stakes, our standards we never lessen 

Because when the enemies come and to destroy us they threaten 

We fight for Zaynab with dignity as our weapon 

For this Zaynab of ours would go to any measure 

To save Islam she sacrificed her most valuable treasure 

Cuts and bruises didn't compare to when they snatched her veil

But the enemies' ploy of destroying modesty failed

For when they took her Hijab after the battle of Karbala 

An entire nation in Zaynab's name vowed to protect Hayaa

When I think of Zaynab, I see the definition of patience 

How did she have such perseverance? 

When I am faced with the most basic of trials 

I fall into a slumber and a state of denial

But here is Zaynab, given every form of affliction 

To the extent that you don't even see this happen in fiction

But by God did she have flawless conviction 

Because despite facing this corruption 

She was saving perfection 

And in her eyes, this was a blessing from her Lord 

So despite seeing Husayn put to the sword 

And alone on the battlefield, Allah he implores

Yet when she is asked about the treachery

And about all that she had to see 

She replies with 'I saw nothing but beauty' 

But her suffering still persists in the land of Shaam 

Oppressed from the moment that Abbas lost his arms 

But may Allah protect the ones defending her shrine 

For our hopes of visitation, they attempt to revive 

It is her words in the Bazaar that have kept Islam alive 

So Ya Allah, ensure that from her Ziyarat we aren't deprived

For her intercession, the Shi'a desire 

A Du'a through Zaynab, a barrier from hellfire 

For Zaynab's tragedy, our hearts truly break 

Invite us to Shaam, so we can call out Labbayk 

Night of Grief

Assalamu Alayka Ya Aba Abdillah
Sajjad, this is the voice of your grandmother Zahra
Nothing I say will prepare you for tomorrow
For no one has, or ever will, witness such sorrow
But Sajjad, what I'm about to tell you, carefully listen

For you a play a huge role in success of this mission

Sajjad, keep an eye on my Husayn when his companions depart 

Keep him strong, for this will just be the start

His companions will be killed, one by one

But soon after, his family too will be gone 

The men will be killed and our women abused

The children will plead for water but the enemies will refuse 

Sajjad, so soon after Husayn is slaughtered 

Yourself and the women will be brutally tortured

Sajjad, when our women are being countlessly whipped
And when the jewellery from their ears is ruthlessly ripped
And when of the Hijab on their heads they are stripped
Husayn will feel restless
Husayn will feel helpless
As chivalry was the way of his father
But he'll be gone and Zaynab will have no protector

Sajjad when he sees this happen whilst laying on the floor
His mind will cast back to the incident of the door
I recall his scream when that nail crushed my rib cage
His state of confusion, whether to cry or to rage
For I was the one who carried Jannah's scent
And my father's troubles went when my neck he smelt
But Sajjad, at least Husayn was there
My pain he would share
But who will support him in front of the enemy forces?

Who will prevent his body being trampled by the horses? 

My grandson, one sight in particular will tear him apart
When he sees Abbas separate from his limbs by Furaat 
Sajjad this is when Husayn's back will be broken
So prepare for your father's outpour of emotion
Whilst Abbas was alive, the women were safe
There wouldn't be a bruise on Sakina's face
But Sajjad one thing about Abbas will break the heart
And that is he will fail to bring water from Furaat
Sakina will watch an arrow cause the container to burst
And no one will be left to quench her thirst
Her hopes will shatter
But when she sees Abbas' body the thirst won't matter
She will see Abbas' body like a jigsaw puzzle
And will desperately cry out for her Abu Fadhl
But that will be it
Abbas will be dead
All that will remain is on a spear - his head

Sajjad, on seeing Asgher when out of thirst he quivers

Desperate for even just a drop from the river 

Your father will lay Asgher on the scorching sand

And will request the enemy to feed him with their hands

And their reluctance to give you won't understand 

But don't be surprised by the enemies refusal 

Newborn or grown man, these enemies are brutal 

An arrow will soar into this baby's neck 

The number of prongs I urge you to check 

And Asgher's wings will flap like a lifeless bird 

When a voice from the heavens will be heard 

'Ensure Asgher's blood doesn't drop to the floor' 

Even Karbala cannot handle this gore 

But Sajjad after this something else will happen

Something beyond what you could've imagined
And I plead that when you witness this event
That you comfort Sakina as she watches from the tent
As a man takes her place without her consent
For a part of your father was reserved for your sister
And every night she'd come and Husayn would come and kiss her
But tomorrow someone else will be sat on his chest
And Sakina will ask, 'does he also want to rest?'
She will wonder why he didn't ask her permission
Sajjad I beg you don't explain the reason for his position

Husayn's battle will end as he becomes shaheed 

As he hands over the baton for you to lead 

To complete this mission, your strength we'll need 

But Sajjad, the struggle only gets harder 

You won't even have time to mourn for your father 

Sakina in Shaam will ask for her Baba

His head on a plate will be the enemy's answer 

And that'll be too much. She'll cry. She'll die. 

But with your aunty Zaynab, you'll keep on going 

And the blood from the torture will keep on flowing 

But Sajjad, when you are blood-stained 

From the sharpened chains 

Know that this is what Allah ordained 

And to RasulAllah I have already complained 

So keep on going as there will be more trials to tackle  

So much so that after the battle 

You'll be asked to give the name of the place

Where there was the most hardship to face

And you'll remember the prison 

And you'll remember the women 

And the answer that'll be given 

Is Al-Shaam. Al-Shaam. Al-Shaam. 

Tears for Husayn (as)

You say it's been over a thousand years 
Surely it's time to stop with these tears 
Pointless are these tears that you shed
Why not be proactive and look ahead 
And do something useful instead

But the power of these tears you don't realise
As streams flow from these blessed eyes 
They have sparked many a revolution 
They're the reason behind our resolutions 
To correcting our ways they're a solution
For this pouring out of emotion 
Makes us realise the promises we've broken
And the minute a tear falls we are awoken 
Almost as if our eyes have spoken 
And they ask us where our life is going?
They question whether as people we're growing?
Or if our our path to Allah is actually slowing.

So don't mock these tears of ours
For until you don't realise their powers 
These droplets of gold you'll continue to denounce 
Until on Qiyamah when Zahra will announce 
That the tears we cried - even an ounce 
Will completely transform our accounts 
Where our profit of thawaab outweighs our loss of sin
And suddenly it is these tears that win 
As Zahra escorts us to Jannah's garden 
And for mocking our cries, you beg for pardon.