Poetry

A Request, An Echoing Call

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ImageBrother Yahya on the echoeing calls of the Tragedy of Karbala.

Image
Yahya Naqvi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before Ali's son charged towards the enemy fleet
Where destiny and Hussain finally meet
Before Hussain gave Yazid his defeat

He gave a request, an echoing call
Time will not forget
The earth still recalls

"Is there anyone?
Is there anyone that will help me?"

In the back of the room
Wine bottles glistening
People talk a lot
But nobody's listening

Everyone seems to run their mouth and talk the talk
But no one really knows anymore how to walk
Big brother watches over our mosques like a hawk
Kids turning faithless
Values decreasing of our most precious stock

Everyone wants to live the American dream
Children of immigrants, the emigrating cream
Running from poverty, and oppressive regimes
Came to get wealth, hopefuls of the dollar scheme
In a place harmoniously tuned to one single theme
Here, money is power and our God is green
The most wealthy people tend to reign supreme
Even the good fish are caught in the current stream

Stitch up your heart and put it away
Grab a hold of your brother that's going astray
Be the light to his soul in his time of dismay
Worshipper of God, so put the mercy on display

I'm just trying to help out in this time of need
Trying to put out drugs in this time of weed
Trying to help the youth while leaders mislead
Trying to bandage hurt in an Ummah that bleeds
Trying to show my friends how we can succeed
I'm not aiming for records, I'm aiming to exceed

Let me take away your sorrow, and show you a better tomorrow
We'll pray for our mistakes today, and we can forget yesterday
….
They say Fatemah comes on Ashura
And cries for her son
She does not cry for what was done
She does not cry for the battle won
Hussain had seventy two companions
Since Karbala he's had none

Like the people of Kufa
We call Hussain then we run
She asks for Hussain's allegiance
We give her nothing in return
We cry about the massacre
But the ideology we shun

We bow to the devil

To the devil we pray

Our cities are leveled

Our towns in disarray

Yes, the Zionist witch cooks souls in her stew
She keeps tamed Arabs at her UN zoo
Whatever her will is they will subdue

When she gets frustrated they all turn blue

Ali's son is in prostration and the enemies surround
The angles weep along with seventy two immortals in the ground
The sinner sharpens his sword for the sin most profound

As Hussain is approached now by Lucifer's hound
Zainab cries from her dune and it's a cry well renown
'Till this day you can hear her cry's echoing sound

"Is there anyone?
Is there anyone that will help my brother?
Is there anyone that will help the brother of Hassan?
Is there anyone that will help the son of Ali, Sole victor of Khayber?
Is there anyone that will help the son of Fatema from getting murdered?
Is there anyone that will help the apple of the Prophet's eyes from getting slaughtered?

Oh, have you no shame?
have you no shame?
Oh, have you no shame?"

Have we any shame?
Hundreds of years later…
We are still playing games
Imam after Imam perished…
Our ways are still the same
Repeating worthless excuses…
And those excuses are lame

Before Ali's son charged towards the enemy fleet
Where destiny and Hussain finally meet
Before Hussain gave Yazid his defeat

He gave a request, an echoing call
Time will not forget
The earth still recalls

"Is there anyone?
Is there anyone that will help me?"

It is said, "Every day is Ashura, and every land is Karbala."

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