If I was in Karbala on this night
the last night before the end,
I would witness Heaven and Hell
spread out before me,
Heaven blocked from Furat,
Heaven prostrating to God,
Hell surrounding Furat,
and forgetting their God.
I would witness in the tents of Husayn
Oil lamps illuminating faces weeping in prayer.
I would witness the last Isha salat of
him who rode on the shoulders of the Prophet.
I would witness the love in the faces of the companions
as they prayed their last behind him.
I would witness the shining eagerness of the boy
for whom tomorrow's death is sweeter than honey .
I would witness the flag bearer with a little girl on his knees.
I would notice that his arms are still intact.
Tomorrow, Sukayna, your uncle will not be here.
They will rip out your earrings and lash you with whips.
Stay close to him for as long as can.
I would witness a man bowed with grief and shame,
making his way towards Heaven,
and being embraced by one so tender and forgiving,
that he overlooks the deed that led to this end.
From the forgiven I would witness the steam of Hell leaving,
and a breeze of Heaven wafting through
</
