how many nights did you speak of bibi zaynab

in villages never recorded in british surveys

traveling from here to there

plying your trade

your income measured in tears

we will never know you

lost to history

but God knows

and hears

your name inscribed

in records on high

servant of the night

speaker of stories

burner of hearts

i wish i could have seen you at work

like an angel peeking from behind the curtain

because i understand now

in a small way

what work this is

and how for some brief moment

a modern city becomes an ancient desert

or india becomes iraq

and the caravan of husayn

includes us both

servants of the same master

travelers on the same road

back home to karbala