WILAYAH NEWS VOICE OF THE GLOBAL AWAKENING
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When the Kaaba of the noble and the Qibla of the free, Imam Hussain (AS), the martyr, rose in defense of the religion of his grandfather, the Chosen One (PBUH)—having found it on the precipice of a crumbling cliff, threatened by the dangers of deviation due to the policies of the heads of arrogance of that era, the terrorists from the House of Umayya and the House of Abu Sufyan—he set out with his family, his companions, and the members of his household toward Karbala. He surrendered his soul on the day of Ashura, stepping forward to offer his blood, echoing the conscience of the nation and its spirit, which had become in need of a bloody earthquake to awaken from its slumber, addressing it by saying: “If the religion of Muhammad could not be established except by my death… then O swords, take me!”
Peace be upon you, O you who were shrouded in blood; O fifth of the People of the Cloak (Ahl al-Kisa); O dweller of Karbala, for whom the angels of heaven wept. Peace be upon the flowing blood, the withered lips, the bared bodies, the pallid frames, the severed limbs, and the raised heads. Peace be upon those scattered across the open wilderness, buried without shrouds, and peace be upon the heads separated from the bodies. Peace be upon him whom the Majestic One purified, of whom Gabriel boasted, and to whom Michael sang in his cradle. Peace be upon him whose trust was betrayed and whose sanctity was violated after his blood was unjustly shed. Peace be upon the dyed grey beard, the dust-covered cheek, the despoiled body, and the mouth struck by the staff. Peace be upon the bodies left bare in the wilderness, gnawed at by scavenging wolves and visited by fierce beasts. Peace be upon you, O son of the Messenger of Allah… the peace of one who knows your sanctity, is sincere in his devotion to you, draws near to Allah through his love for you, and is innocent of your enemies.
Peace from one whose heart is wounded by your calamity, whose tears flow whenever you are remembered; the peace of the heartbroken, the sorrowful, the bewildered, and the humbled. Peace from one who, had he been with you in the plains of Karbala, would have shielded you with his own self against the edge of the swords, offered his life for your sake against the fates, fought by your side, supported you against those who transgressed against you, and sacrificed his soul, body, wealth, and children for you. His spirit is a ransom for your spirit, and his family a shield for yours. I bear witness, O my master, that you established the prayer, gave the zakat, called to righteousness, made clear the paths of salvation, and struggled for Allah as is His due. You were obedient to Allah, a follower of your grandfather Muhammad (PBUH), a raiser of the pillars of the faith, a suppressor of tyranny, a challenger of the oppressors, and a sincere advisor to the nation. You swam in the depths of death, fought against the corrupt, stood firm with the arguments of Allah, showed mercy to Islam and the Muslims, and championed the truth. You safeguarded and supported guidance, spread and broadcast justice, defended and exalted the religion, restrained and rebuked the wanton, took from the noble for the sake of the humble, and treated the strong and the weak equally in judgment.
You were a son to the Messenger (PBUH), a savior for the Quran, a strength for the nation, and diligent in obedience. You were a keeper of covenants and pledges, turning away from the paths of the immoral, exerting all effort, long in prostration and bowing, ascetic in this world as one departing from it, looking upon it with the eyes of those who feel alienated from it… until injustice extended its reach, oppression unveiled its face, and error called out to its followers while you were residing in the sanctuary of your grandfather. Then, knowledge compelled you to dissent, and it became your duty to struggle against the wicked. You set out with your children, your family, your followers, and those loyal to you. You proclaimed the truth and the evidence, called to Allah with wisdom and beautiful preaching, commanded the establishment of limits, and obedience to the Worshipped One. You forbade indecency and tyranny, and they confronted you with injustice and aggression, so you fought them.
They betrayed your trust and your pledge of allegiance, angered your Lord and your grandfather, and began the war against you. You stood firm against their spears and blows, crushed the armies of the wicked, and plunged into the swirling dust of battle, struggling with Zulfiqar, as if you were Ali the Chosen. When they saw your steadfast soul, they set upon you the perils of their deceit, fought you with their guile and evil, and the accursed commanded his troops to prevent you and yours from reaching the water. They engaged you in battle, showered you with arrows and shafts, and respected neither your trust nor your sanctity. In their killing of your loved ones and the plundering of your tents, you remained at the forefront of the chaos, enduring the agony. The angels of the heavens marveled at your patience. They surrounded you from every direction, exhausted you with wounds, and stood between you and your breath. No helper remained for you, yet you were seeking reward and remaining patient, defending your women and children, until they brought you down from your horse. You fell to the earth wounded; the horses trampled you with their hooves, and the oppressors mounted you with their sharp blades. Your forehead sweated with death, your hands and feet spasmed, and you cast a faint glance toward your tents and your family, preoccupied with yourself, away from your children and kin.
Your horse sped away, wild, toward your tents, neighing and weeping. When the women saw your horse in such a state, and saw your saddle twisted upon it, they emerged from the veils, striking their cheeks, calling out with wailing, humiliated after honor, rushing toward the place where you fell, while Shimr sat upon your chest, dipping his sword into your throat, gripping your grey beard with his hand, slaughtering you with his blade. Your senses went still, your breath faded, and your head was raised upon the spear. Your family was taken captive like slaves, bound in iron, upon the backs of camels, with the heat of the noonday sun scorching their faces. They were driven through the wilderness and the open plains, their hands bound to their necks, paraded through the markets. Woe to the disobedient and the corrupt! By killing you, they killed Islam, abandoned prayer and fasting, violated the Sunnah and the laws, demolished the foundations of faith, and distorted the verses of the Quran.
The Messenger of Allah (PBUH) has become bereaved by you, the Book of Allah the Almighty has been abandoned, and the truth has been forsaken as you were overwhelmed. After you, change and substitution, atheism and neglect, whims and delusions, and trials and falsehoods have appeared. Your herald stood at the grave of your grandfather, the Messenger (PBUH), mourning you to him with flowing tears, saying: “O Messenger of Allah, your grandson and your youth have been killed, your family and your sanctuary have been violated, your offspring taken captive after you, and catastrophe has befallen your progeny and kin.” The Messenger was agitated, his great heart wept, the angels and prophets offered their condolences, your mother Zahra was grief-stricken, and the armies of the close angels gathered to offer condolences to your father, the Commander of the Faithful. Mourning ceremonies for you were held in the highest heavens, and the Houris struck their faces for you. The heavens and their inhabitants wept for you, as did the gardens and their keepers, the hills and their regions, the seas and their whales, the gardens and their youths, the House and the Station, the Sacred Mosque, and the state of both the permitted and the prohibited.
O my master, if the ages have delayed me, and destiny has hindered me from supporting you, and I have not been a fighter against those who fought you, nor an enemy to those who bore enmity against you… then I shall lament you morning and evening, and I shall weep for you tears of blood instead of water. O Aba Abdillah, we will not say we “will be” with you, for we *are* with you, and we will remain with you, struggling against the tyrants, the corrupt, the deviants, and the enemies of religion. We will remain to keep your memory alive forever. We will continue to chant: “O Hussain, as long as there is a soul within us, and as long as the sun rises and sets, you will remain immortal throughout the ages.” Generations and free people will draw from you lessons of pride, dignity, honor, martyrdom, and sacrifice for the sake of belief. Death is a lie; for Hussain is eternal. As time passes, his memory is renewed. Every day is Ashura, and every land is Karbala… until the Creator, Almighty and Majestic is He, permits the appearance of the Qa’im from the family of Muhammad, so he may fill the earth with fairness and justice, after it has been filled with oppression and tyranny.
