This is a piece I wrote tonight on the night that Imam Ali was struck....
Grief, so heavy, dwells in the air,
As if a cloak of sadness it too wears,
It is as though every gush is not a breeze,
Instead, it is sorrow, gushing with such ease,
For in this night there is no trouble,
To break hearts down, into nothing but rubble.
Black, so empty, yet comes with nothing but eyes full,
Regardless of it being cotton, silk, or even wool,
The lovers of Ali tonight are drenched in tears... Continue