The beat of my heart echoes, and the crimson tears flow
A heaviness clenches within, releasing my sorrow
I stand here, a witness, to the waking of a new dawn
envisioning how a child may have stood, her heart torn
Skies reflecting my grief, a deep shade of red
Unable to comprehend how they once must have bled
Time passing slower than my feet are willing to hold me,
An ache within urges me to set my mind free:
How does a father bear the loss of a child so dear?
How does a mother watch her child fight without fear?
How does an innocent infant see her uncle’s arms severed?
How do cold and brutal hearts not hesitate against the revered?!
Tell me Oh you who have been misguided;
How is a man of great compassion, who grieves also for the wrong,
Dismissed mercilessly by your ego, that you hold on to so strong?
Have you lost your sense of direction? Or your ability to perceive?
Your conscious has withered and left you, and yet you still believe:
This battle was won by you, and victory was delivered in your hand,
Is that not why you celebrated and magnified so grand?
While the truth known to those whose eyes of the heart weren’t closed
A strength was being nurtured and you’d soon be exposed
I call that strength ‘Aalimah, others call it Zainab, daughter of Ali,
By both names referred, a strength that sets Muslims free.
But you, oh misguided, have in reality lost and been defeated
The likes of Hussain, from you, they knowingly retreated.
Hussain is alive, as is the message, and those who follow
Through means of actions, and also our tears of sorrow.
Come see us in these days, when the cries resonate worldwide
Then oh misguided, tell me, the winnings were handed to which side?
*It is these tears that keep the message of Hussain alive!*
