December
03
Tags
Poetry : Hymns of Karbala
Hymns of Karbala
Listen to the author recite Hymns of Karbala :
Hymns of Karbala
The 1990s were the years of El Niño,
the Golden Age of hip-hop,
the Gilded Age of commerce.
The Roaring Nineties
brought opulence,
decadence,
and freshly minted robber barons
on the information superhighway.
The landscape awash with ideas,
brimming with innovation,
the nation
prospered in the 1990s,
the years of El Niño.
The pitter-patter percussion
of raindrops
on corrugated rooftops
lulled me to sleep.
Saturated in dreams,
my mind
spilled at its banks,
thanks to the bountiful
blessings
dressed as precipitation.
Mountaintops glistened
like emeralds green,
vibrant troves
popping and alive,
rain dancing
in abundance
and bliss.
But listen to the
mountains today,
and you’ll hear the hymns
of Karbala.
Drenched with thirst
and hunger,
the mountains are parched,
yet awakened
from slumber.
Today,
it’s brown thatches and chaffs,
as rainfall graphs
drop precipitously,
and the Golden State
dulls to sleep
in a Dust Bowl haze.
See,
ice is born
in arid deserts
where
the waters of time
move
like days in a sandglass,
where
reflection pools
evaporate,
leaving molasses quicksand.
The murky cauldron
of seething despotism
cools,
and gurgling whisperings
fool us
through vented tar sands.
I clasp my hands in kunut
raised to the cosmos.
A caravan of 72,
of me and you,
of babies, women, and men,
of brethren and sistren,
of family and kin,
traverse galaxies,
irrigating soils with
prayers and red tears.
We are thirsty for Justice,
hungry for freedom
from the frigid ice.
Ice is born
in frostbitten hearts
on hills of capitals,
where
politricks rap
with stick-up kids
deranged,
where tyrants
rearrange maps
for profit gain.
Yes, this is
where ice
is born.
But we melt this ice,
on everyday,
in every land,
and geysers gush
on Ashura
for our thirst
and hunger
in this caravan
to You.
Peace.
———————————
Imrul Mazid is an educator residing in Oakland, California. He worked in youth development in New York City, where he earned his Master’s from Teachers College, Columbia University. Imrul’s favorite number is 14.
Muharram In Manhattan 
Reblogged this on ʿIlmprocess and commented:
Hymns of Karbala
“But we melt this ice,
on everyday,
in every land,
and geysers gush
on Ashura
for our thirst
and hunger
in this caravan
to You.”