People of Karbobala

The People of Karbobala

Have you ever met a precious soul;
born in the plains of Karbobala?
They need not be relatives of Hussain or Sakina
More than blood; a chosen lot
from Hablillah

Their lives are full of mystery
Their hearts for mankind; a treasury
Their wisdom; unsurpassed territory
Their generosity; flows graciously
Their eyes express not tearfully
Yet fill us with ecstasy
Their persona; one to melt for instantly!

I dedicate this to the one who I claim is a part of me
A Hussaini, A Fatimi;
From Zainab’s chosen daughters
She fills my heart with joy and laughter

Those whose hearts were full of doubt
Despised this love I had for her
Banned all possibility for me to see
Woe to Me; my tragic destiny!

Two years have gone
my heart still cries
in pain it moans
I wipe tears dry

A modern-day Jami Plot?
Where a desire to express love must stop?
Every pathway made a block?
Now truly I am beyond all shock
They scare me with, “You dare shall not.”

The irony?
We meet at dusk and dawn
If you may, all day long
Beyond all physicality
into the realm of spirituality
A secret world
Where masses know not
She comes to me
And I to her
We speak and express endlessly;
in secrecy
My other half;
My twin soul:
Worry not, this day shall halt
Where separation exists not
Must I declare like Rumi to Shems:
“I’ve searched for you all my life
and through your being
I’ve understood unity;
not fantasy!”

I from you
you from me
The world knows not
yet the heavens agree;
willfully in secrecy!

As I conclude this with a cup of tea
I ponder with anxiety…
as I’ll never taste what you’ve been through
Though my heart beats in humility in love for thee
Fadul Abbas appears to us:
“Drink with us, drink we me”
He tells me that you are part of them; part of me
As I hold this cup of very hot tea, which Fadlul Abbas gave to me
I shiver, I quiver; try to recover
falter and stumble with the gaze of wonder
this tea falls all upon me!
I scream with joy and violent cries
this burning sensation tingles with glee
The pain I say, ‘Is not the same nor shall it ever be,
equal to your daily dose and on- going catastrophes’.
Rather a sip from the ocean of Pain and Unity
for the chosen ones tied in chains
born in the Holy Plains
Every day an Ashura, for the people of Karbala.

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