Wednesday, February 25, 2004


Thirst plagued the throats of the Muslims,
Crying in the heavens from the angels and jinn's.

The sun hanged high, heating the ground,
For the Imam and his family, the cries of war could be found.

The Yazeedi troops killed the companions.
But to the martyrs, their demise led to heaven.

One by one, each stepped on the scorching sands,
Only to meet death by the cursed enemies hand.

The horn of Islam blew gallantly in the air,
But for the Muslims on that day, there was great despair.

Onslaught, and chaos, filled the noon sky.
Inside the tents of the Muslim women, there would be many a cry.

Ali Akbar gave adhan, which hung in the air,
His voice lifted all despair.

Zuhr time came; they did their prayer,
The enemies advanced nearer and nearer.

The saddened sky was filled with spears and arrows,
Killing many of men, laying dead, shot by the foe.

Now nammaz is finished, bodies lay all around,
Bloody and dry, was the Karbala ground.

The battle continued, the Muslims bravely fought,
Thirst in their mouths, Islam in their thought.

Shortly after, all but Ahlul Bait lay dead,
Joy in their heart, for Islam their blood they shed.

Qasim went to fight, the enemy he did meet,
But before he died, he was trampled by the horses' feet.

His body lay on the ground, lifeless and smashed.
His face still shining yet completely thrashed.

Then goes Ali Akbar, his father behind in tears,
Seeing his handsome son go, to die, without fear.

A spear strikes Ali Akbar, straight in his chest,
He falls off his horse and says, "Asalaam father dearest."

Hussein ibne Ali comes and sits by Ali Akbar,
And he dies in the arms of his loving father.

The news comes to the tent; grief loomed in the air,
The Holy family getting killed just wasn't fair.

Aun and Muhammad, still very young, bravely went next as a team,
Killing the ignorant troops, ignoring the tempting water stream.

Islam in their minds, Allah giving them strength,
They fought and killed many; they fought valiantly.

Alas they to were brought to an early and dismal death,
On the hot sands of Karbala, breathing their lasts breath.

Lailahaillallah, was in their parched lips,
Their bodies lay in blood and their clothes in red rips.

Again another death, saddened all,
But for Islam they fought, and saved us all.

Many others went, only to die,
Leaving a legacy, and the people to cry.

Sukina, the small daughter of Hussein (a.s.),
Thirsty for water was crying again.

"Oh my father, we all need water."
"Please help me, my brother, my father."

Her saddened voice, brings sorrow to Hussein (a.s)
For he knew water would not come to the Karbala plain.

Hazrat Abbas then went to the tent of Sukina,
And said, "I will fetch water, with the strength of Allah"

He mounted his horse, with the mushk around his neck and the Alam in his hand,
A spear in the other, he left, only to die on the unforgiving sand.

The enemies quivered, cowardly in fear,
Not wanting to face the tall Abbas, with his mighty spear.

He reached the stream, and got off his horse,
Now prone to attack from the enemy force.

He stared at the quenching water, tempting him very,
But then looked back thinking that Sukina, her thirst, she grows weary.

He started to fill the dry mushk,
Soon to be attacked, by a great rush.

The enemies were given orders not let the water reach the camp of Hussein (a.s.),
Or then they would certainly be slain.

Abbas (a.s.) charged on, vigorous yet tired,
Now the enemies attacked their arrows they fired.

Abbas (a.s.) fought, killing many with his spear,
Protecting the water for Sukina (a.s.), who he held dear.

One man cuts off Abbas's (a.s.) arm,
Abbas (a.s.) put the mushk in his mouth from harm.

Again he fought, to protect hope for all,
But another zalem cut the other arm, and the alam did fall.

At the camp, Hussein (a.s.) stood pale and in worry.
Sorrow took over, looking at the enemy flurry.

An arrow hits Abbas's eye, blood spurted everywhere.
Yet hope was still in Abbas (a.s.), not despair.

He felt joy, for the camp, so close,
Yet his soul, humble, did not boast.

Riding gallantly, striding on the scalding sand,
Air through his beard, riding through the harsh sand.

Alas God called to him, "Come to me,"
He fell off his horse, fate he now can see,

Arrows and spears striking him,
Tears in his eyes, as he stood on death's rim.

Hussein (a.s.) rushed to his brother, all bloody and brittle,
His life was gone, very little.

"Asalaam brother dear," Hussein (a.s.) cried,
"Brother," Abbas (a.s.) wearily said, "I tried."

"Today my back is broken," weeped our Imam Hussein,
For his brother's dying caused great pain.

Now Abbas (a.s.) laid peacefully in rest eternal,
For not bringing the water he was still regretful.

Before he died he asked not to be brought back,
For there was no water in the dry sack.

Hussein (a.s.) left with grief,
Arrows piercing his body, the rightful caliph.

Back at camp, Sukina cried with affliction, grief, and remorse,
Knowing her brother dead, by Zuldjina's empty return, their white horse.

Now their lives hanged in the blank, knowing their fate,
Sparing not a single second, for Islam they would not wait.

Alas, many were dead, the end nearing it time,
And the final blow would be done, finishing the crime.

Now the war over, the harm now done.
Yazedi troops, drinking, having fun.

No remorse in their black hearts, not a tear for them to spare.
The Grandson (a.s.) of our Holy Prophet (s.a.w.w.), there on the ground, whilst the enemies, without even a care.

There in his bed, he lay, sorrowfully,
Hearing his sister's cry, grievously.

Not able to walk, or to get up,
Knowing soon their will be evil, and the coming of corrupt.

Imam Zaynul Abideen (a.s.), now leaving his tent,
His heart in a knot, his feeling a bent.

The enemy has now lit the tents a blaze,
Watching with bloodshot eyes, their minds a craze.

The head of Hussein (a.s.) cut off by Shimr,
Thinking it will bring him fame and glamour.

Sham-e-Ghariba is upon them, the battle complete,
A little cool, no more sweltering heat.

The bodies of the martyrs, massacred, beheaded,
Yazed's sword, sheathed, for now innocent blood shedded.

Their head's on spears, held up in victory,
Yet for the Ahlul Bait (a.s.) is the victory, in history.

Ashura finished, no, not yet, not ever.
We shall never forget our Imam's (a.s.) brave endeavour.

Marshias done with honour, Majalis's done,
Noha's said touchingly, forever the world shall know how Islam won.

by: Hamzah Makhdoum
Edmonton, Alberta


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