Tenth of Muharram

By: Sister Mardhiya

Ali's call of " Allahu Akbar "
invited all to a sorrowful day.
The warm voice of the young muazin,
melted the hearts of the enemy.
They watched with wonder,
as Hussain led the small caravan.
Bending down in devotion;
prostrating on the sanctified sand.
Yet, Satan's followers,
surrendered to his poisonous fangs.
Instead of sprinkling rose petals,
on the dedicated worshippers,
they shot arrows at them,
whilst they prayed.
With this act,
martyred were two faithful lovers.
What night it had been,
& what day it unsealed . . .
One by one;
the companions of Hussain,
circled around him,
like moth tracing light,
and with their blood,
painted kerbala.
In a single day;
many a tribulations befalled him,
so intense to even be narrated;
by the witnessing men.
A time came;
when he dressed his own son,
and bid him a painful farewell.
All his kins laid down their lives,
with a broken heart,
he collected his withered roses,
from the plain of kerbala.
Yet, he were strong;
for he had a brother - so loving.
When his Abass left to fetch water,
he never returned.
To this Hussain held his back,
and said, " Now broken has my spine ".
What a day the tenth of Muharram was!
A final call for departure,
came from Hussain.
He mounted his horse,
unknown of Sakinah's whereabouts.
The horse in its own way,
expressed his grief.
With tears in his eye;
he pointed at his limbs.
There laid the princess of Hussain,
clinging to the feet of Zuljanah.
Hussain lowered himself,
and held his child.
And prayed that patience be gifted to her.
With this the son of Zahra,
entered the field,
from where he never returned . . .
In the burning noon of Ashura;
By God twas Hussain lying on the burning land,
his naked body concealed,
by the blazing dust.
The earth wept on his solitude;
Furat, flowed wailing on its own misfortune,
had it not been the test from God;
its water would gush towards the tentside,
and quench the thirst of Hussain's soldiers.
Ah . . . on the empty cradle,
lied Asghar's memories,
& his mother in tears,
gently rocking it.
All tear filled eyes,
were locked at Binte Ali.
The Second Zahra now took the lead,
and comforted the orphans.
She gathered the women,
and guarded them,
like a lioness; she protected them.
The latter part of the same day,
unveiled a saga more distressing.
The daughter's of Ali,
who's beauty none had ever seen,
were deprived of their veils.