AmeerAl Mu'mineen (Writings)

A Dove 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,

As they have been, due to their distance, for years,

They long to be able to whisper by his throne,

Only once again, they wish to be in Najaf’s holy dome.

A strike, as it slits my master’s head,

In prostration, as his holy self bled,

A knife too strikes me, my Alawi heart,

With the cries of Zeyneb, my tears too start,

With the orphanage of Hassan and Husayn,

There is no stopping this throbbing pain.

Insanity, what this name “Ali” does to me,

But tonight insanity does not cover it to any degree,

For what is this mind, when it has lost its master?

What is this mind amidst such disaster?

What am I without my Ali?

Nothing but a demented soul, surely.

Wish, how I wish, to have stopped this tragedy,

That I could be the doved who prevented his agony,

Or I wish that I could have flown into that swords way,

So that it could slit ME into two on this day,

So that the murder of my master I wouldn’t have to stand by,

This, is the prayer tonight I aim to the sky…                 

One Dominating Name

As the sun sets and as it resigns to another domain,

So do I, into the narrows of my mind where I do not reign,

In this world of mine there is only one dominating name,

The name of Ali on every, street, every corner, again and again.

I navigate through this world and its streets during rush hour,

I see there is written, on a billboard, on a never ending tower,

“Tonight’s strength, tonight’s power,

Made the Kaa’ba open like a blooming flower”

Now I hit the pavement and as I walk,

I hear a father and son talk across the block,

The father says “Abbas there will be a day when tragedy will knock”

The son replies “I will be your mirror, on those plains of Iraq”

A dead end is where I land,

There stands before me a fort I cannot withstand,

Then I hear a chant, “Kullo hammin wa ghammin sayanjali, bi wilayatika ya ali-yo ya ali” So grand,

And just like that my worries disband.

Now it is dark, I cannot make my way home faster,

When I look down a dark alley, a man speaks in a whisper,

His voice, humbled, shaky, and heart breaking, I go after,

He weeps “you are a master and I, a slave, who will show mercy to the slave, if not the Master?”

As I reluctantly leave that world and return here,

I realize it is that day of the year,

When the resigned sun and I together cheer,

The “Nara e Haidary” followed by “Ya ALI!” echoes far and near.

The Effect of The Golden Dome

A breeze brushes against my face, far from bleak,

A drop of water, trickles down my cheek,

A rhythm in my chest accelerates faster and faster, to its peak,

A breath struggles to leave, my lungs fall weak,

The effect of this golden dome! An explanation of this magnificence I seek

A place like this I have never seen before,

I wonder if the heavens gave up and let some of it fall?

Was the weight of this shrine too much to handle,

It was a weight only the land of Najaf could cradle?

Or was this personality so holy, so infallible,

To deprive man of him, it isn’t feasible?

The peace and quiet serves as rejuvenation

The foreign rants, prayers and the melodious conversation,

The warm of sun, its illumination,

The weeping believers, our heartfelt lamentation,

The eulogies by servants, oh the satisfaction!

A sight so tranquil none has ever known,

The splendor of its pure outer gold tone,

The sky powder blue mosaic inside its holy dome,

I could gaze at all night to dawn,

Together with thousands, millions even, who come,

I flock to him to make sure my love is shown.

The enchantment of its beauty more than serene,

The shrine of the second of the Holy fourteen,

Impossible it would be –for those who dare try- this place to demean,

I thought to myself, overwhelmed by this scene,

In tears and smiles, I stood right in between,

As I walked to Najaf, my sins, to clean.