Tag: Hussain
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Arbaeen
Everything is shimmering in the shrines of the slain, starlit crystal capturing song and the moan of the mourners, fermented, yet fresh, like the River of Wine that flows beside the Milk. Read more
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Hussain at Karbala
I wander the sands, smeared crimson o’er gold; the blood of my house runs red as dusk. The children are crying, their throats parched earth. Read more