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Blessed by the Prophet, Zainab did he name,
Daughter of Zahra, a reflection of Ali she became,
But the Prophet knew of the trials she would face,
Her dream of strongs winds, prophesied of a place,
Where the blood of all the Prophets had bled,
Karbala’s skies would set and rise in red,
When the Mercy of Mankind had passed away,
And time soon also took Al-Zahra away,
For the cries of her mother still resonate in her ears,
Fire, blood and Ali’s tears,
And her father for which no words can describe,
The oppression, falsehood and lies they’d ascribe,
Those years of isolation that none can endure,
For the reins of rulership had been taken by the impure,
On that final night in Ramadhan that ibn Muljim struck his sword,
How he strung the heart of Zainab with that final chord,
Orphaned, Zainab had to continue,
She searched, to find a new avenue,
But mutiny started and Satan revealed its ugly head,
People abandoned brother al-Hasan as cowards fled,
And the fate of the Prophet repeated again,
And his wretched wife cried in vain,
Jauda had poisoned al-Hasan after several tries,
News spread fast, from far away were heard cries,
And now you know where the story goes my friend,
This promised destiny was already penned,
And now she knew why on death both mother and father,
Had requested her to hang on to Hussain’s hand harder,
So peace be upon those white hair and broken back,
Ya Zainab, senseless was their hatred, their hearts were black
She sacrificed her own flesh and blood, Aun and Muhammad she gave,
Leader and strength of the caravan,even Imam al-Sajjad she did save
And how can I put to words to what she saw,
But she declared, it was all beauty, without any flaw,
Hussain prayed “down” while Zainab demanded to lift up the earth
And so it was that the last of the five departed the earth,
She slapped her head on the howdah and how she bled,
Words of Ali in the court of Yazid she read,
And so she drank from the immortal chalice,
As she set up Azadari, Husseiniyas and Majalis,
And though her soul left a year later,
She left a legacy and we find none greater
(via 14noor)
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I wish I didn’t love you so much. No I don’t though; that’s not true. I am glad I do. I don’t know what to say to you except that it tore the heart out of my body saying goodbye to you.
Vita Sackville-West, in a letter to Virginia Woolf, 28 January 1927 (via strangefatality)
(Source: quote-book)
