today
as i walked in the park
my son in his stroller
it was as if the entire universe
let out a deep sigh
for Husayn
–
to the eye
people laughed and joked
ate their lunch
or kissed their lover
unaware that the entire canvas
upon which their lives were painted
was weaved with
ya Husayn
–
one of my most learned teachers whispered to me once
that ibn ‘arabi was in the greenery of al-andalus
if that is true
then the whole cosmos screams
ya Husayn
–
the historian looks at pious narrations
or ancient volumes written by systematizing minds
maybe even secondary literature that flows from barren hearts
but for me
there is a moment in the park
when Husayn’s final breath
was more real than me
or my son
or anyone else
A Mercy Case 