On the day when hope has diminished,
And our hearts meet their fates either way,
When faces will either be shining with light,
Or darkened with fear and dismay,
I wonder if you’ll reach out for my hand,
If you’ll turn your head towards me,
I wonder if I’d be touched by your grandure,
Or if you’ll find me worthy…
I may be tarnished by many a vice,
My soul is darkened with sins,
But one truth remains despite my mistakes,
My heart- with your love it brims…
My eyes have shed tears for your loss and your pain,
For Hassan, Zainab, Abbas and Hussain,
And for Mohsen, and your broken rib on that day,
For my master who was tied and taken away,
And through my tears I wonder if you’ll be my salvation,
If you’ll choose me to be amongst your saved nation…
You are the lantern of guidance, the way to be saved,
With every atom, the path to success you have paved,
Be it the nights you spend praying for your lovers’ success,
Or the depths of wisdom that only your household possess,
Your mercy and generosity that know no limits or bounds,
And your greatness and blessing, and the souls it surrounds,
And your household- where can a lover even begin?
Their love in our hearts cannot be expressed from within,
A father and husband who are the best of all men,
Inseparable now and inseparable then,
And sons who are the masters of the people of heaven,
Not one, not two but the blessed eleven…
Hassan, whose goodness leaves his lovers in awe,
Hussain and his sacrifice that no other man saw,
And Sajjad, nobody else could have seen what he’d seen,
Mohammed the splitter of knowledge seen and unseen,
And al Sadiq…such genius and reason and intellect so high,
And to his own soul, anger al Kadhim would deny,
Al Ridha, a king outside but truly a slave of his Lord,
Mohammed al Jawad, the pious and adored,
And al Hadi, the guide who cannot lead astray,
Al Askari, the master who was hidden away…
And finally our master who will show us your grave,
The final messiah, both humble and brave,
The listener who hears even words left unspoken,
The mender of torn souls and hearts that are broken…
And after all these praises, a question enters my mind,
Do sons show merits to which their mother isn’t aligned?
Never- their merits are yours as much as they’re theirs,
Of your countless attributes, they are the heirs,
But I can’t do justice to your status so high,
And the limits of eloquence I cannot defy,
So I describe you through thirteen other lights,
Their merits are yours and so are their plights,
Your pleasure is theirs and their pleasure is yours,
And pleasing you all opens God’s merciful doors…
So once again, I ask- will you look at me?
When you stop to set your true lovers free,
Will my name be amongst those that you save,
Do you accept me as your humble slave?
I know I am not worthy, but you are so high,
Your mercy is so great that you wouldn’t deny,
Your praises light up the darkest of nights,
And your names alone destroy all my frights,
For your courage is the courage of my master Ali,
And your acceptance becomes the Almighty’s decree,
So one final time I ask you…do you accept me?
