Rafed English

Muharram Poem

With the dim light of the crescent moon

The New Year unfurls insidiously

Like black clouds of Monsoon

Casting shadows of doom and gloom

Thick shades of black that drape the earth

Writhing and bleeding as the wind brings images -

A Severed arm, a pierced throat, a headless body

O my Abbas! O my Ali Asghar! O my Hussain!

Dripping black blood like black gold

That energizes the rusty dead soul

The black garb of night

Devoid of color and pleasure

Hides the vibrant colors of truth

Pure and untainted

Only to be seen with the spirit of the eye

The spirit of the seeker seeking the truth

Truth in its gleaming armor

Faces the black beast in the Yazids,

The blackened hearts of the Qabils,

The blinding blackness of ignorance

The rare black rose of the desert

Gives up its precious petals to the winds

The fragrance drifting in the valleys and hills of time

The scent of the Tuba Tree

The scent of Yusuf’s shirt

The scent of the poetry of Ali

The heavenly scent of pure divine beings

The banner falls with a loud crash

But the words like seeds scatter far and wide

The black fertile earth

Brings forth a celebrating green of hope

Truth after all can never die

Composed by Raihana Yusufali


Share this article

Comments 0

Your comment

Comment description

Latest Post

Most Reviews