Who...?
Who,
in his or her right mind
would long for days of sorrow,
of depression,
of pain
I know of a whole society,
and thus I understand
the longing for those days
and I
as absurd as it sounds
long to befriend the misery
I miss the days I spent
willing for victory
praying away the nights
under the tents
with my lady
the lady of all ladies
I miss the days I watched the youth
fight like men
in a valley of beasts
as the ground claimed it's prize
and reddened from their innocence spilt
I miss the day
I glimpsed a soldier
built to destruct an army
put his thirst aside
to fulfill a promise
of water
to a worn out child
I miss the days I fled
from the fires that had consumed
our only shelter
and steped upon the burning ashes
into my fate as a spoil of war
And yes,
I yearn so greatly
for the day I hoped for more
... for the child's thirst to quench
for the soldier to escape the ambush,
and smite the army down
... to be lead by his brother to victory
for my lady's prayers to be answered,
for an army to feel
... to be compat ionate
towards the infant
and give but a drop
to hydrate his tiny limbs
Yes I long to live this story,
as a floating spirit
In the midst of all the turmoil,
once and again
every month and year
Relive the tragedy
and be amongst my beloved
once more
to end this agony and suffering
And for that,
I,
and all who believe
are one of the rare
well-minded people
of this world
** This poem is about the yearly commeration of the battle of Kerbala, 680 AD on the lunar-Islamic months of Muharram and Safar
