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More alive than ever: Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah's legacy grows stronger in martyrdom

US Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-MN) (L) talks with Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi (D-CA) during a rally with fellow Democrats before voting on H.R. 1, or the People Act, on the East Steps of the US Capitol on March 08, 2019 in Washington, DC. (AFP photo)


By Roya Pour Bagher

The martyrdom of Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah, leader of the Lebanese Hezbollah resistance movement, broke millions of hearts worldwide in ways unfamiliar and profound.

The Lebanese nation had never known a pain this deep until it struck them all of a sudden. It was a massive jolt from which they are yet to recover. The wound is too deep to heal so soon.

He may not be physically with us anymore but he is there in spirit. What can I say, really? This is something that cannot be put into words. It can only be felt.

His absence leaves a void that is hard to fill. We could spend our entire lives expressing our love for him in words. However, it seems nearly impossible to articulate the grief of his loss.

Sayyed Hassan was, dare I say, the only sweetness in the otherwise bitter Lebanese life. Amid the many hardships faced by the Lebanese people, he was the thread of patience holding the nation together, preventing it from falling apart.

Does his absence mean that Lebanon has now collapsed? No, it’s the other way round. If his presence kept the Lebanese nation steady, his absence has propelled them into action—carrying forward the banner of resistance and pursuing the cause of justice with determination.

The Lebanese post-Sayyed Hassan are not the same as they were before. Nothing can be the same anymore but his illustrious life and legacy will continue to inspire future generations of resistance fighters who will valiantly confront the Israeli occupation and its arrogant Western backers.

I write this not just for the Lebanese who hold formal ties to the land of Lebanon. I write for those who grew up with Sayyed Hassan, pledging their allegiance to him regardless of where they stand in this treacherous world.

Some speak of treason, others of strategic mistakes. I am neither wise enough to speculate nor inclined to do so. What I know is this: though he is gone physically, his presence has grown stronger since his departure. I feel Sayyed Hassan now more than ever. I hear him more clearly.

As Zeinab Soleimani, daughter of Iran’s top anti-terror commander Martyr Qassem Soleimani, said after her father’s martyrdom, General Soleimani was caged, and with his martyrdom, his hands became free and his spirit became closer than ever.

The same is true for Sayyed Hassan. He is with us and even closer to the enemy. Let them fear his spirit, as they should, for it will haunt their every move until their inevitable defeat and our imminent victory. Yet, we are already victorious.

We, the Shia of Ali ibn Abi Talib (as our Sayyed so aptly described) do not measure success by worldly standards. For us, success lies in every step taken toward God.

As long as we tread the path of truth, we are victorious. Let the world spiral into madness with its distorted definitions and hypocritical stances. Let our enemies die of envy.

Indeed, they envy us because they know, deep down, what their ultimate fate will be and how far removed it is from ours. The vastness of the stars pales in comparison to the distance between us and them.

My beloved Sayyed, I witnessed your valiant battles and your fulfilled promises of victory. My heart raced with your impassioned speeches, echoing the cries of my heart and soul—words only my veins could hear.

You taught me to pay no attention to the opinions of others, to always speak the truth, and to always stand by what’s right, even when surrounded by hostile forces.

I have followed this lesson many times. In doing so, I have felt the loneliness of the Ahlulbayt (peace be upon them), but also the pride of being a Shia—a Shia who learned from you.

Watching your memorial in the southern suburbs of Beirut, where you were martyred, felt like witnessing the holy shrines of Imam Hussain (AS) and Abulfadhl al-Abbas (AS) in Karbala.

I never mustered the courage to imagine what a memorial for you would look like, yet how fitting it was. A memorial where your words resonated through the most profound void I have ever seen.

The foolish enemies thought they had destroyed Dahiye and silenced you. Little do they realize they have laid the foundation for an empire of resistance we will continue to build upon.

Three lights illuminated the site of your martyrdom: the mourners’ candlelight, the spotlight on your makeshift shrine, and the red lights reminiscent of Karbala.

It is as if God Himself provided us with three eternal reminders: loyalty to the Leader of the Islamic Revolution, the leader himself, and the legacy of Imam Hussain (AS) and the principles he exemplified in the desert plains of Karbala fourteen centuries ago.

If we hold on to these three elements, we have already won.

I pledge allegiance to you in your absence as I did in your presence. I will follow your path—the path of the Master of Martyrs, Hussain ibn Ali (AS).

It is the path of resisting oppression and pursuing justice. Like Imam Hussain (AS), we will give our all to God. Is that not what so many of your followers have done? Then there is nothing to fear.

Roya Pour Bagher is a Tehran-based writer.

(The views expressed in this article do not necessarily reflect those of Press TV.)


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