Heaven's Tears

By: Sister Mardhiya

All alone by a little grave,
shattered with grief,
with a heart aching with pain,
Umm Rabab bids her infant the last farewell.
She whispers ...
My Mistress;
the daughter of Rasul Allah,
shall come and receive you my darling son.
To her, my little Ali Asghar,
of your ripped neck,
your drenching thirst,
and the severity of pain,
do not complain.
My son, gaze at her bruised arms,
and spot an infant boy.
He, my little one is your uncle,
who died so early.
The only thing that he heard,
were the cries of my mistress,
as she laid injured behind the burnt door.
If he my son,
endured the pain,
you too, of sorrow do not complain.