Poems 1

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A Silent Wound

[Written by Sister Fiddha]

Alone in your house
Your husband busy
The silence is suffocating you
Be patient zainab- Yours is to be a slow suffocation
Your brother's smiling face
Will never appear outside your window
No! that knock isnt him
He has left you.
You are alone.
Except for the people of Medina
Who want to hear all about your sufferings!
Tell us again how they beat you ?
Show us your scars - the one under your left arm
Yes! the one with the big bruise
Oh what a tragedy-
Let us cry now for you.
Do their tears comfort you ?
Or are you already dead?
Floating about in decayed skin
Rotting amongst them.
Death is not for you Zainab
It is a relief you will have to wait for
For you have the treasures of this world-
The joy of life!
Whispers in the night
Wake you
What is it ?
Sakina's moans?
No, no Zainab - she remained in Damascus
She has joined her father.
You cant sleep?
Well wake up Abdullah-
How when he sees you
He will wail and cry
"OH MAULA HUSSAIN! HUSSAIN!! HUSSAIN!!"
Run Zainab !
Run!
And dont stop to look at
Aun and Muhammad's empty matresses-
They to have left you too.
Your memories enfold you
Theres no escape
Oh look there's Sajjad
Weeping to his Lord
Crying blood.
Where will you run to?
Rasul's grave?
How can he bear to see you
Now you have been defiled?
The shame is too much for you
To bear
So where my lady
Where .................?
A stranger approaches you in the street-
"Come my lady let me comfort you"
Thank her Zainab.
She weeps softly
Her tears falling on your face
Startling you
Who is this person
Who has shown you mercy
Mercy - thats what you long for
Zainab
Sleep Now Zainab.
Sleep-
For you have found it
In your mother's arms.

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Zainab

[Written by Sister Fiddha]

Did you see
the role you would have in history?
Did you know the reverence that would be shown to your memory?
Did you smile when you witnessed us talk so lovingly about you ? Tell me Zainab,
How did it hurt?
Tell me what you told the others,
Tell me Zainab
How did come to bleed
And where did it hurt?
Did you know I would love you
That there are those whose tears fall for you
That there are those whose sighs are filled with sorrow over you
Take us by the hand
And show us where it hurt
How did you come to bleed
O daughter of Ali
Show me what you showed the others
Tell me what you told the others
Cause don't you see
It wasn't only to be
You and your family who bleed
Take me by the hand
And tell me where it hurts
Take me by the hand
I will show you my observation
I cry when I think of you
Talking to Yazid
Or when I think of youu
Holding Aun and Muhammads mattress to your cheek
Oh Zainab
How did you come to bleed
My Zainab
How can I show you what you mean to me
We sing this song
Our lives a brief glimmer
Of a story
That blends us together
Shall I show you Zainab
How you came to be
In this heart that beats inside of me.

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Zainab - a tribute #

[Written by Sister Fiddha]

The night of the ninth night,
Was your protection,
It enfolded you,
Kissing your royal skin, Screening you from,
Your destiny,
Halting,
Temporarily,
Your death.
It witnessed your desparate prayers.
As you prayed for your brothers,
Your sons,
Your family,
But never you.
Did you even contemplate your own screaming agony?
Or did you choose to ignore through the gaping tent,
The vision of your mother,
Exposed on the battlefield,
Quietly sweeping,
With her faded black shawl,
The place of her son's death.
It eavesdropped on the mother's telling their sons,
To be strong,
To be ready,
And not too shame them.
Were your eyes on Aoun and Muhammed,
Or were they transfixed on the face of Ali,
In the form of your brother,
As he lay prostrate,
Heart heavy with the burden of his task.
That night was for you and Hussain.
Allah blessed you with the gift of reprieve,
Sending angel's to shield the rising sun's rays,
From your eyes,
To allow you to feast on Hussain,
A little bit longer.
Performing the annual vigil on that night,
The silence in the mosque,
Save from the wailing and weeping,
Haunts me.
I dream of you in a quiet corner,
But my mind remains empty of the,
Visage of your face,
It remains numb to the,
Depths of your agony.
Ye raat na dulnaa,
Ki oujar jayege Zaynab,
Sooraj na nikulnaa,
Ki oujar jayege Zaynab,
Filter's through the early hours,
Of the ninth night.
As we wait,
As you waited,
With bated breath,
Praying for reprieve.
The sun's rays mock our hopes,
Forcing us to bear the agony,
Of Akbar's adhan,
As at dawn all your followers
Rip their hearts out,
Laying them at the foot of your grave,
A meagre offering,
For your own sacrifice.
SHAAM! SHAAM! SHAAM!
Zainul Abideen's misery,
Encompassed in one word.
A story told in one word.
A night filled with one word.
Ashura over, at night
Your servants, retread
Their prints on the
Pristine carpets in the mosque.
The tenth night encompasses us,
In a desolation so thick,
We forget to breathe,
The lighted candles,
A mere accessory on the set of your tragedy.
That night you retrieved the alam,
From Abbas' severed hand,
And became the lioness of the dessert,
Protecting your own,
With the strength of your father.
As the tents burned,
You became the shelter,
As the children screamed,
You became the soothers,
And as Imamate was about to be extinguished,
You dragged Sajjad on your broken back,
And became the saviour.
It is a story forgotten by history,
Lost through time,
Insignificant to many,
Save the handful of Shias,
Who visited your overlooked grave,
Begging you for,
A place in your ark.

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My Lady

[Written by Sister Fiddha]

You never saw freedom
My Lady
You never escaped from the prison
My Lady
You were buried within its walls
Imprisoned for life My Lady
Your sweet smile
Forever in the grounds of Yazid
My Lady
Never to be united with your father's sweet chest
My Lady
You never saw freedom
My Lady
You never escaped from prison
My Lady
Forget what you knew
My Lady
You will never see Madinah
My Lady
You will never live again
My Lady
Never run or smell the grass
My Lady
You never saw freedom
My Lady
You never escaped from prison
My Lady


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