I’m looking for a logic to make sense of his absence
Ridha would bring me comfort and reprieve
And before I could prepare for the end of his stories
He leaves the world and us all, but it isn’t his end.
I saw his life of victories and always read another
There was no end to them, until his death came
And ended the pastimes of reading about his splendor.
When I was hurt, I thought of the soul that is his
He would invite me in and let me speak to him
I didn’t have words, but he knew exactly what, how, and when
I just whispered his name, Ridha, and all sorrows caved in
This Ali took them all aside and showed them what punishment is.
Too powerful to enclose
Too strong to quiet down
He is the soul you’ve asked for
A world within this world
Why would you forsake him?
He’s died and left what didn’t appreciate him
But he hasn’t left those who seek his aid
I know this, because when I just think of his help
I immediately rest all of my troubles beside him
He doesn’t ask for much in return, if anything
I adore him from afar sometimes, and still he aids me
I am not diligent in his service, and still he accepts my offerings
I am not his favorite, but he’s kept me in his favor
I do not know what I am to him, but I know his love is too great
I know that if I’d try for a minute, he’d aid in more, plenty
There is much I still do not know and that I will never know
But this Ali is a custodian of hearts granted to us by God Himself
This, I know.
How is it, I can think he is gone when I feel him?
How is it, people say he is in Mashhad, when I feel him here?
How is it, people have forgotten him when he shuns light on truth perfectly?
How is it, people restrict him to one location when this Ali is ever-present?
I may forget him when I need him most, but glory be to God
For sending Ridha to me when my mind and tongue have forgotten
For the moments my sorrows have burdened my remembrance
And these trials brought a weight to my call for help
And I felt too weak to ask for anything
This Ali dies, leaves, and is gone.
This is what they tell me.
But I’ve seen too much help,
Too much hope,
Occur through his destiny.
This is what Ali Ridha is made up of-the Hope God has enriched
If God is comfortable, comfortable Ali remained
But how many of us wail and cry until Ridha comes to us to remind
This is fleeting. God is Eternal. So, keep your comfort in line with what endures.
No Ali is gone.
I wouldn’t trust anyone.
Ridha sits in us each
He repeats God’s praises
He repeats prayers of peace
He brings a blanket of harmony
He’d wrap my soul with it each time
Whether I’d ask or I’d forgotten
Ridha is my aid and he’d never let me forget it.
