Forgive me, Water

Forgive me, Water. Forgive me today. I know my lips are thirsty, yet I must walk away. Forgive me, Water. I know what you can do. You can cool a burning throat. You can make the weary new. But tell me, how can I drink from your flow, while Husain remains thirsty back where the tents glow? How can I fill my chest, while his remains dry? How can Abbas live comfortably, while Husain suffers nearby? No, Water. Do not tempt me today. My loyalty stands in the way. For every wave I see, I hear Sakuyna’s plea. Every ripple that reaches the shore, reminds me what I am fighting for. I hear a child. I hear her cry. “Ya Ammu Abbas, do not return dry.” And wallahi, that cry is louder than you. That cry is stronger than you. That cry follows me through and through. So keep your water. Keep your stream. I have a promise greater than a dream. For what is thirst when compared to Husain? What is comfort when compared to his pain? What is Abbas without loyalty? What is love without sincerity? No, Water. Today I choose pain. Today I choose Husain. Today I choose the path of sacrifice, even if it costs my life’s price. And when history remembers my name, let it never remember strength or fame. Let it remember one thing plain: The river wanted Abbas. But Abbas wanted Husain. Labayka Ya Abbas.