Muharram!! A month of mourning, sadness and grief! Why??
The greatest sacrifice in humanity that has made every soul cry.
Its the personality of Hussein, the grandson of the holy Prophet Mohammed, that shook mankind,
Kerbala, the land where Islams message was read.
Its not all about the bloodshed that the tragedy took place,
Its the words of ” I will not give my hand to a man like you” on the tyranny (Yazid’s) face.
72 companions & Hussein fought and gave up all they had,
But the attrocities they were made togo through were heartbreaking and sad.
Their heads were cut,children slapped and women removed off their coverings,
But still the family of the Holy Prophet stood firm through all the happenings.
Be it an elderly like Hussein,a youngster like Ali Akber or a 6 month old baby Ali asghee, they were ready to stand up for the truth,
Anything to stand against the man who was a liar, womanizer & most of all a disgrace to the religion of Islam.
On the 10th of Muharram, the day of Ashura, Hussein and his companions gave away their lives,
The time it was proven that a precious life is worth giving in the name of truth and religion.
Its the bravery of these martyrs that Islam has reached our ears,
That today the word ” Ya Hussein” is what everyone hears.
Zainab, the sister of I. Hussein who took care of the ladies after his death,
Dragged from Kerbala to kufa and shaam but gave an excellent speech in the palace of Yazid just showed her level of faith.
Kerbala is not a commemoration of Muharram but a mission for Islam to carry,
The direct link that can lead to the appeaeance of the son of Hussein “Al-Mahdi” to hurry.
Let us try & follow the actions of these amazing personalities & fear none but the Almighty,
And to HIM we pray for a chance to visit the holy land of Kerbala, Labbaik Ya Hussein!!
Archive for the ‘Poetry cirlce’ Category
I am told I must tread,
Across this minefield,
Oh, how very challenging,
Let’s see what I yield.
Imperative to go,
Danger mines scattered around,
Wrong step will blow my fate,
And troubles shall abound.
Must reach to the end,
With my bag of good deeds,
An overwhelming task,
Most difficult indeed!
Careful steps I begin,
Protecting what is mine,
Don’t want to blow apart,
Lose all to this mine.
Closely, if I see,
The mines here are,
Small slips of tongue,
But Gigantic, the errors.
The comment I didn’t mean,
The hot exchange of words,
Are all explosive mines,
Turning gardens to deserts.
The wrong forbidden gaze,
May seem innocent fun,
But will trigger the mine,
Leaving apart none.
The sin thought so tiny,
Looked harmless to me,
But over here it’s a mine,
Threatening to destroy me.
For an Earthquake’s crack,
Will shake a skyscraper,
Built over many years,
Seconds will see it taper.
Halfway through this field,
When I look behind and see,
Realize ‘tis not so hard,
To achieve victory.
Keep your focus on the goal,
That is Allah’s pleasure,
Then mines you can avoid,
Your good deeds you treasure.
(The greatest sin is the one whose doer perceives it to be minor- Hadees )
I gaze out in searching… for a saviour rising
The absence in my heart… calls out for his name
In a heart that’s bleeding… a fire igniting
And only his rising… can put out this flame
I wrote a letter… toward my Master
Addressed to your name… addressed to your name
* * *
Upon the horizon, I see no figure
Rising from the Earth’s curve: no hope, no picture
And I squint with my eye… until the tears I cry
Write a message that I hold up in the air
I hope that he sees and my cry for help heeds
The message in my hand, I hope that he reads
I use a tortured voice… void of options and choice
To cry out for the pride of my work and deeds
I cry, from my desperation, turned insane
* * *
A love letter addressed toward my beloved
On it I place my soul and all that I’ve loved
For myself I’ve disgraced… when so much I have placed
Before Imam Mehdi, my life and my blood
I know that he’s upset, but still now I call
I knock upon his door – before me a wall
I have but my regret… failing test after test
When truly his wonders, my being, enthral
And yet my fears tell me, ‘Mehdi can you blame?’
* * *
My Master this letter, it contains my heart
But how can I send it, when we’re worlds apart?
Between us a distance… measured in your grievance
Tell me from this void will you ever depart?
Or is your home and absence one and the same?
* * *
Tell me shall I bury it deep in the ground?
Shall I speak it’s silence, in hope of a sound?
Do my lips I seal… ignore the surreal
Should I dry my tears hoping to see the profound?
If I sought out comfort in a different land
For whom would I cry out, when I need to stand?
If my hand I extend… my wounds would you not mend?
When pieces of my heart together I band
Shall the sorrow in me, my Master, I tame?
* * *
I do not know which house to this letter send
Master I leave it to flutter in the wind
If by chance it would reach… you, Mehdi, heed my speech
And rise from your absence, to your lovers tend
For hearts are confused when, you, they would implore
Which house do we approach, and knock on which door?
Bewildered we wander… hoping for an answer
That wipes the tears that now into rivers pour
For how much longer will our pain be our fame?
* * *
When shall the horizon see your figure rise?
Does not tire you disguise after disguise?
For my letter tells you… of how much we need you
And how we tire of our trials and cries
Master bring me your hand, receive my letter
So I can find out where abides my Master
As to but remind you… that we’re waiting for you
The time of your absence, later and later
I waited, but Master your absence it came…
Away from the dwelling of men
Under a festival of stars where the light of night hovers
But darkness still eats away to the sigh of the wind
In a location known only to my mind
He found me asleep against my own ignorance
Coiled in loose folds of shame
An orphan in a world that had abandoned me
Where worldly hope burnt men
Until they were lost in the white heat waves
Shadeless and helpless
Amongst the carcasses of broken and abandoned souls
Alone in the dying breast of the world
Just like the distant stars, this heart maybe beating
But it has been long dead
And its next beats would take it into dusk
With time gnawing against the walls
Unzipping it from a soul so eager
So eager to separate, hopeless
But he found me as if he knew
He knew I would be waiting at the guillotine of time
Like a mortal Jonah
Waiting to see the timeless patience in his eyes
And chase hope that has declared him a master
With a hand reaching back to me
He showed me how his scent made a garden out of God’s desert
An oasis out of the emptiness
Breathing life into my worldly death like Jesus
In a desert void of hope
His presence was Noah’s ark
Turning sand into a rippling current of sea
The sea of me
Splitting me from my past, Moses
Building me like the walls of worship
Until I was strong enough to walk
And follow the crunching sound of his feet
Into the mystified distance
Until the horizon was one with his light
My fevered eyes locked on his shadow
Chasing him through clouds that rise and disappear
Running down the passage of time
Seeing nothing but him carrying me
Like the holy book of Mohammed(saw)
Finally arriving where my ego can sink into the shore
Sinking into worship despite knowing my strength knows no bound
Finally lifting my head from this dream
Looking up to see him fade into the distance
just as wind fades, Mahdi
Written By: Sadia Batool Zaidi
ANWAAR UL SHABAAN
All had gathered,To sight the new crescent,Of the month of Shaaban,When special mercy descends.
They said it was too hazy,To see the new moon,Surprising! As to me,Seemed it was in full bloom.
The moon swelled with joy,As it marked the new month,Its glow was empowering,Even the mighty sun!
“You see this is Shaaban,A special time,” said the moon.“Shabaan has five letters,Sheen, Ain, Ba, Alif, Noon.”
Sheen is for the Shabaab,That rejoice in Jannah,For arrival of their Master,Of Sayyadush Shuhada.
Ain is for the Ibaadat,Whose life was revived,Worth of Allah’s servantry,Zainul Abideen defined.
Ba is Babul Hawaaij,You will smile to discover,His birthday’s after Hussain,Can Ghulam surpass his master?
Alif for Imame Zamana,His noor grants the basis,The sun, moon, the world,In which all seek existence.
Noon is Naai’batuz Zahra,Zahra’s representative,The special, special lady,Whose Status is distinctive.
So Shaabaan is made up of,Five Noors, five letters,No other month can boast,Of a ranking that is better.
As Anwaar ush Shaabaan,Give Shaabaan the radiance,Of Delight, Mercy, Desire,Of Unmatched Eminence.
———- Sadia Batool Zaidi