By: Taher Adel

His eyes were like darkly painted rooms where my knightly figure wallowed
Floating on his pupil as he watched as I was swallowed Into the distance 
I wondered where his tears would run to without my shoulders to soak them 
Or where his eyes will flee to without my shadow to shield them
I headed towards the river like a stream heading towards my ending 
At my reaching my nurtured heart was betrayed by my fallible being
The water quenched my eyes so an arrow took them away 
The water cooled my palms so the swords upon them preyed 
This container reminded me of my heart where his agony was bottled 
Like the water it now leaks 
But I have no palms to pick up his woes or eyes to see them to sleep
Now, coiled in his silence I settle in my dreams 
Devoured by the beauty of his presence I gleam 
The lights of heaven clash at our embrace
Desecrating the redness, to have a house of visitors built
A distance away from him like the stitching of a quilt 
That same quilt that covered five now covers me from a distance 
And the same visitors that visit him seek me no different
The sons of Ali remain brothers in life and in martyrdom
Abbas they called me and Abbas I answered

Taher Adel

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