 Though I understand that these tears we shed for Imam Hussein will be weighed on the day of judgment, like gold and everything we did in his way will be like the most beautiful good deeds. And my heart bleeds. Hussein is all that I need. He's the first of my spirituality and the flame that my heart feeds on and whenever I'm in need I get down on my knees and I plead with the words, Ya Hussein proudly on my tongue and I know that he heeds and I walk the road he walks on because I know where he leads leads to heaven where he leads as the master of the youth of paradise where his father holds the keys and the only way I'll get there is if he intercedes for the wretched person that is. But there's more to just a tear. A tear needs to mean something. Crocodiles cry when it comes to meal time. It doesn't mean anything. This tear is worth so much that it's measured by a fly's will but if we don't pray, we don't receive it in session. I.e. it isn't worth anything. If we spend 10 days making a medicine but can't spend 10 minutes praying then there's clearly something wrong with that love that we claim to have. That's really worth the investigation. If we use the hands that we use to lament Hussein to beat our kids or beat women then how ignorant are we of Hussein's uprising? The same hands are fast lost when sacrificing all that he had for those women and children who from first were dying. If we oppress others, no matter how small that oppression seems to be, be it mocking or bullying, harassing or belittling, then whose side are we sitting on? Hussein or Yaziz. If we give our money to the measures but earn that same money for cheating and stealing or we stand up when our own rights are taken away but don't stand up for others who are bleeding or we see oppression and we hesitate because we think about all that it might take from us and our comfortable living, then we aren't taking on lessons from the same story that we keep hearing. If we can't ignite the Hussein within us then which Hussein are we lamenting? If we can't defeat the Yazid within us then which Yazid are we condemning? If we can't implement Hussein in our life then which Hussein are we remembering? So to say that you love Hussein while you don't follow Hussein is a red herring because in the book of Ashura his enemies can be red hearing that the reason he rose up was for the verse read that his grandfather red hearing revelation in his ear yearning the perfection of mankind's morality and yet we have the indignity to live in humiliation and not indignity and I speak for myself. If I want to be besides Hussein then I need to let go of everything in my life besides Hussein, everything that doesn't realize Hussein, everything that feels to live by Hussein and by extension that means God because Hussein did everything he did because of God who himself was nothing more than for us to be like Hussein. Ask anyone of us who inspires us and will be like Hussein, sad though that so few of us actually want to be like Hussein. Man castles he breaks the shore and blows them away it reminds us never to kneel in shame not for a man nor king for every man to see us. Eye to eye the same thing a drop from the universe identically waved as it falls and dries and disappears the many lessons we learn from tears a natural anesthetic that breaks away. Cascades down chunks and heals the blade the pain precisely the story of Hussein 72 tears leaving earth selflessly dripping away dripping away into eternity where their names definition and us mortals chasing the expeditions trying to understand each one by one. The brave and the selfless the young and how these installations guide the lives of those who call themselves the followers of Ali and the nine generations of sons both the life and the death and encyclopedia of stars brought to the cross the night skies brought to life with every turn of the year where the planets mourn and the feet mourn and the chest beat like fields of sowing seeds and the angels overseas. The allegiance signed and sent where millions pledge their souls, hearts and gears and chant please honor Hussein by taking our tears. So to truly commemorate Hussein stand up for someone suffering from racism, domestic violence or bullying. Think about the secret burdens that people are carrying. Think about the apartheid apartheids and lobbying. Be there for the black man shot dead skin colouring. Be there for the depressed soul who smiles shivering. Be there for the orphans dreams crushed by his own starving. Be there for the refugees seeking refuge and yearning for a living. For a native land we think from all the profiteer here. Commemorate Hussein by acting like Hussein. Let's have a second loud, please. Bismillah ar-Rahman ar-Raheem. I'd like to thank my headband for giving me this privilege of being able to stand before you and say hello to the verses of love about Yahweh. The poem that me and Taha wrote, I think we wrote it from a perspective of just trying to get ourselves first to remember that the great Majlis of Mamasin is not where it ends. The way I see the great Majlis of Mamasin is that it's where you come to be inspired to go out into the wide world and make the changes that Imam Hussein himself wants to see in the world. So I want each and every single one of you, inshallah, to try and reflect when you leave these doors of this mosque. Don't just shed a few tears as great as tears are and then don't take those lessons into the wide world. When you leave this mosque today, inshallah, take the lessons that you've learned from today into yourselves and ask yourself as I ask myself of every single day how I can change the world for the better just as Imam Hussein has done. And I reflected a lot on this message recently when I went to Iraq, I was two years ago when I went to Iraq to do the Ziyar to Imam Hussein, inshallah. And left the glory and glamour of the central area of Calvary with the holy shrine drive and went out into the wider suburbs to see orphans and widows live on extreme poverty. Indeed the heart breaks for any orphan, any widow all over the world to see what's happening with the Rohingya Muslims, for example. And so many others are being oppressed all around the world. But there's something about meeting with these orphans and widows, especially in Iraq and especially in the holy city of Calvary, simply because many of them are widows and orphans for the reason that their fathers went out to fight ISIS, to fight terrorism and gave their lives and ultimate sacrifice to keep us here in the West safe away from ISIS. And the thanks that these orphans and widows get usually is living in a house, barely with little provisions or anything. And I always tell myself and I was telling some of my colleagues this year in this trip, I don't see these children as simply Iraqi orphans that we must throw money at. I see these children as future artists, future directors, future thinkers, future scientists. But unfortunately they don't have the same opportunities that we do. So I ask you all as well to inshallah try and support as much as you can, view orphans of Iraq through any organization that you see fit. I would definitely recommend the St. George Foundation for the Infantastic Work. I've seen first hand in the holy city of Calvary providing these orphans, making sure that they get monthly salaries, making sure that they get the things they need in the house and even trying to facilitate marriage for them to help them in the wider world and help them grow and grow families of their own. I want you to take a journey with me to one of these houses. We've left like I said, the glamour and glory and the beauty of the holy city of Calvary. The shrines and the heading out into the suburb which is still the land of the mother thing. I think it's still heaven. But unfortunately it doesn't look like heaven. You go into one cell, you drive down a road. You take a left turn off the busy main road and you go inside an area where there was rubble and rubbish. In the holy city of Calvary, in heaven you see rubbish and rubble and rubble. Where no human being should move. You go inside one of these areas of rubble and find that there's a house or a hut behind a pile of rubble. You walk inside this hut or this mini-house and you see a mother and her, let's say, three young daughters who have lost their father. And you speak to this little girl, she's very small for her age. But very small for her age, very mature for her age. You can see inside she's suffering but she's trying to hold herself back. And you ask her, what's your story? Tell me, tell me your story. And she looks at you and she says that Daddy never came home. I wasn't sure why. I was confused. My eye still warmed from the kiss that he left me just the other night. I can't sleep tonight though because I hear mommy cry. He had a job to do, she would tell me. I kind of understood. I didn't really understand why. I know that he had to travel far away to protect us from some bad guys and now my inside's hurt because he said he's coming back and I can't believe he lied. My eyelids are alive to the tears. Daddy cried, dad, are you coming back? Because they're telling me that you died. Baba had to go to tell me. There are some bad people that want to do us harm. He'd hold me real tight with loving hands, stroking my palms. I refused to live in humiliation, he would say. So we've taken to arms, they're hijacking our religion and pretending to know our profit. There's nothing prophetic about their evil and I will not stand for it. I'm going to stand up and defend the world against them. The world's against us again and we're stood firm against them. He kissed me goodbye right there on the neck. He left the peace of himself there, just a tiny little speck. The spectacle, his spectacle was hanging off his nose. The spectacle awaits him and it's almost as if he knows. I remember those trips that had been. He'd never buy me anything cheap. Wherever I wanted to go, he'd take me. He'd always bring back gifts to keep. He'd tuck me into bed every night before I'd sleep. His hands would dry my tears. Whenever I would weep, whenever I loved something, I'd come back home and find it here in my bedroom. The exception was my dad. I kept loving him, but I never found him there. It was a few days later, I heard Mum crying. The sun sat differently in the sky that day instead of running strongly amongst the clouds it lay. My father whose soul is but a peace of mind didn't return from the front line this time and it's not giving me peace of mind and I've never known daddy to not be on time and there's a fine line between knowing something's wrong and everything being fine. I knew something was wrong. It could be nothing but I'm tormented by my mind. Is it sheathen or is it logic telling me that it's all a sign that daddy is coming back home this time? My mother came into our room. Not holding back the tears. She couldn't hold it in any longer. Her heart as the shadow that she appears, the way her voice was trembling. I hope the angel of death could hear. I can't describe the fear that grappled my little heart. Y'all are the fear. She scared me the way she wept. I was just as scared of what she would say. Just as scarred as I was then is how I am scarred today. My love, she said, he is no longer with us. I'm sorry it has to be this way. Your father isn't coming back this time, my love. He's been taking away. Mom, what do you mean? The guys captured him today. It's okay, mom. He'll be safe. We just need to kneel down and pray. No. No, you don't understand, my love. Your father isn't coming back. He left the battle but his friend was left behind and he wanted to have his brother's back. So he head back and he turned his back on everything he had. And he never came back. They found his body. Your father is dead, my love. Your father is dead in here. He isn't coming back. It's time to accept it. I expected everything accepted. I expected the world to topple on its head but not for my dad to not be home or never be home whenever I come home for the rest of my life. Be strong. My mom says once she wipes away all those tears. It's time for us to band together. Life will be easy from here. From here on, no dove, no heron. You fly above our house like a head without heron. We'll be without food because we have no breadwinner. That's just the way this country is. That's just the way this country is. A widow is a breadwinner. We'll have to move out into our house because we can't afford this rent. But love it like you're home, my love. Alhamdulillah, it's better than a tent or better than no place at all. Just like tea and a bit of bread is better than no school at all. Like water that isn't cleanest better than no water at all. And like how no father now is better than ever having had the father in your life. If I could do anything in this world it would be to turn back the time of the year that time would reverse and my father would be here and I'd tell him not to go. He died for something great. I know that doesn't change the fact though that whenever I think about him my tears like rivers flow so hold your dad close and don't ever upset him. Hold your dad close and don't ever upset him. Kiss those hands that build day and night just so you can sleep comfortably in peace with no worries or fears that he'll ever let you go because the time you spend with your dad you'll never get it back once he leaves this world. Some dads die of old age Some dads die when they're young and some dads are taken from us leaving our households broken and struggling. So take care of us both of us because my dad died for something great. My dad, he was working great. I hope inshallah that each and every single one of us can do what we can to make life better for these orphans and widows who are currently living in Iraq. Truly there's so little that poetry can say or I can say in regards to the experience that you feel when you go and visit these houses I still remember last year I went by Abbas and Shabir Tijani to meet some of these families and immediately Abbas I still remember broke down because he was saying I have a child just like the child that I'm holding right now and it's fair that this child that I'm holding right now is not wrong without him. So I plead with you all to do what you can to help these orphans. Alhamdulillah we've been given so much in this world everything we can come here to have this and we come here in nice cars we go back home to nice homes and whatever difficulties we do have here so petty the difficulties over there that isn't really what we deserve. That being said I hope inshallah those of us who are able are planning our way toward the holy city of Qalbala for the pilgrimage of the Al-Ba'in the 40th of Jinnah I still remember the past two years I've been given the wonderful opportunity along with the brothers brother Imran and Ato as well and a few others to go to the holy city of Qalbala and do Ziyar during the time of Muharram but it's such a strange feeling because whenever I go into the shrine in the time of Muharram my prayers always Ya Allah please bring it back for Ziyar Al-Ba'in that's the one worry that I have I won't get to come for Ziyar Al-Ba'in and I hope that I'll never take it away from you or any of us the privilege of being on that one towards the holy shrine of Qalbala is Ziyar Al-Ba'in because the prayer my eyes made before they haven't seen was blessed me with Ziyar Al-Ba'in the prayer my eyes made before it had even seen was blessed me with Ziyar Al-Ba'in before I became a saint called my name on earth my birth, his earth, my worth God created me from clay and yet he would tease me with Hussain's dust yearning Qalbala sent reaching him was not a choice but a must since then children till when their men have a yearning to reach Hussain's grave and reach a year after year before I was created and I yearned to shed a tear I prayed, earth's weight dismayed I made a promise to God and Muhammad that when I was created I would reach the land that swims in the dust on which I prostrated like a moth to a flame I walk, I walk, we flock they mock, they talk but I erase it with the spots of love from my two walking feet for beneath my feet heaven lies in death I ever meet lions lay in real men again I walk and I walk near the lions hope because I have become one in fact I see lions shy away from me when toward them I come I hush, I crush, in flesh Daesh, every step I take crushes their heads and crushes terrorism and with every hajj and umbra it crushes wild to bring them to shape mighty mighty, weighty 40 plenty other days which we are given to crush all of Hussain's enemies and we crush them with our numbers which cannot weigh the seven seas listen, glisten, hasten and shorten the list of excuses you've chosen to not stand before his grave understand that your master craves you just as much as him you crave seize it, seize it, own it live it, light it, the fire that burns within you crying out Hussain's name daily be the one that reaches his grave and cries out in tears finally cry out, void of blame heartbreak, heartbreak my ache, awakening alive is the warning of Hussain despite how much we have died despite how many tears our tears for our master we've had to hide names, crust, crust, crust, crust, crust souls lost, lost, lost, lost, lost a holocaust of lovers of Hussain that lasted centuries and now our freedom on the road toward Hussain the whole world sees love jars our scars and stars our eyes for every soul that walks toward Hussain a star watches in awe into the eyes of Petrus and from Gibran years they pour what a wonderful fame so rise up, rise up, rise up don't stop, don't swap, don't drop the flag that you're holding to show our past as flag can still fly every time you twirl it it brings joy to a one working line rise up, don't stop, don't swap don't drop that flag that you're holding to show our past as flag can still fly every time you twirl it it brings joy to a one working eye incite his might with light you're right to walk holding his flag every time he flutters, his heart flutters remember what he caught you beside that flag, nothing else matters he's kneeling, he's kneeling and healing and wailing the complaining and whatever else comes to him into his shrine as people beg from him they beg God and Abu Fawal they beg God and Abu Fawal and through him God gives hope to them he cries just as pain so don't fall don't fall, don't fail record the way all of the daughters of Hussein as they were marched upon that desert they walk with you as you walk they walk with you as you walk don't question it, believe it don't quit, don't sit, commit own it, the length of that road shall shorten the road between you and heaven but what is heaven really when you're walking towards Ali's children safely, strongly, proudly Ali and his son Hussein shall embrace you when at last you reach his shrine and he'll tell you, I'll come to your grave just as you have come to mine death type overcame the prayer my eyes made before they could see was, oh Allah bless me maziyat al-Arabah before I became Hussein called my name before I became Hussein thank you so much Allah's power to Allah all of us this is all of us thank you so much God to Allah Muhammad Allah