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ASHURA. Thirst plagued the throats of the Muslims, Crying in the heavens form 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.
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ASHURA Thirst plagued the throats of the Muslims, Crying in the heavens form 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 sand, 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 Akber gave Adhan, which hung in the air, His voice lifted all despair. Zuhr time came; they did their prayers, 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 Namaaz is finished, bodies lay all around, Bloody and dry, was the Karbala ground.
The battle continued, the Muslims bravely fought, Thirst in the mouths, Islam in their thought. Shortly after, all but Ahlul Bayt (a.s) 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 Akber, his father behind in tears, Seeing his handsome son go, to die, without fear. A spear strikes Ali Akber, straight in his chest, He falls off his horse and says, “ Asalaam father dearest.” Hussein Ibne Ali comes and sits by Ali Akber, 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 (s.w.t) giving them strength, They fought and killed many; they fought valiantly. Alas they too were brought an early and dismally 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. Sakina, the small daughter of Hussein (a.s) Thirsty for water was cring 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 went to the tent of Sakina, And said, “ I will fetch water, with the strength of Allah (s.w.t).” He mounted his horse, with mashk around his neck and 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 Sakina, her thirst, she grows weary. He started to fill the dry mashk, Soon to be attacked, by a great rush. The enemies were given orders not let water reach the camp of Hussein (a.s),Or then they would certainly be slain.
Abbas (a.s) charged on, vigorously yet tired,Now the enemies attacked their arrows they fired. Abbas (a.s) fought, killing many with his spear,Protecting the water for Sakina (a.s), who he held dear. One man cuts off Abbas’s (a.s) arm,Abbas (a.s) put the mashk in his mouth from harm. Again he fought to protect hope for all, But another zalim 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 harsh sand.
Alas God called to him, Come to me,” He fell off his horse, fate he can now 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. Assalaam 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, Sakina cried with affliction, grief, and remorse, Knowing her uncle dead, by Zuljanah’s empty return, their white house. 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. Yazeedi 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 there 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, Yazeed’s sword, sheathed, for now innocent blood shedded.
Their head’s on spears, held up in victory, Yet for the Ahlul Bayt (a.s) is the victory, in history. Ashura finished, no, not yet, no ever. We shall never forget our Imam’s (a.s) brave endeavour. Marshia’s done with honour, majalis’s done, Nawha’s said touchingly, forever the world shall know how Islam WON. By Asad Amirali, Husseinali Hassanali & Zaheerabbas Kermali.
