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The Low sobs

Contributed by MuhammadShanazar on Wednesday, 14th February 2007 @ 08:10:59 PM in AEST
Topic: Nostalgic

On Tenth Mohurram

With shovels and pikes, mowers and scythes,
Alongwith parents, brothers, friends and folk,
Went I once a year to the sleepers’ Town,
To rake the houses afresh, b*ng the holes,
Fill the ditches, remove the weedy tufts,
Erect the fallen dispersed stones on both ends,
Scatter the pebbles on the soft dug soil,
Perform the service of host sprinkling sweet water,
Pray to God to make each a piece of Eden.

While departing, walking through to the home,
With the satisfied molten heavy heart,
I heard mysterious the low sobs,
As we suspirate after mournful wailing;
The subterranean voices conversed to me,
Thanking to memorize the day of sacrifices,
The fairest deed amid the sharp shining blades,
Hissing arrows, quivering lances and spear,
The most tragic moments when the Lords,
Proved faith by regaining the lost seats,
And when the long conceived diabolic devices,
Collapsed shattering to the endless bottom.

Copyright Â© MuhammadShanazar ... [ 2007-02-14 20:10:59]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: The Low sobs (User Rating: 1 )
by deadheadpoet on Thursday, 1st March 2007 @ 11:03:23 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Beautifully written. Your past has so much pain...it is almost palpable to me. Thank you for sharing.
Peace and hugs,
Laura

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