A GLANCE AT ZAINAB BINT ALI (Poem)

A poem in honour of Lady Zainab (AS) Bint Ali.
#karbala #ashura #imamhussain #nourisardar
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A Glance at Zainab
Zainab’s crib was rocked and swayed by a Tholfiqar
And she was nursed not milk, but the dust of Karbala
Her bones were grown to be bones of resilience
Much like the skeleton beneath Ali Haidar
Every cloak yearned to veil the head of Zainab
Be it a khimar or the Yemeni cloak of Kisaa
Even the tents of the markets would yearn to veil her
When she would walk as a captive in Syria’s bazaar
She set a Sunnah to follow, for those left in pain
Given her grandfather, this is far from bizarre
Karbala descended on her like revelation
While mountains would crumble, it could not crumble he
For revelation to Zainab was like an old friend
A guest that visited the house of her grandfather
It’s as if she was Muhammad, after Hussain
As if there beneath her veil, stood Rasoolullah
And it is far from farfetched, when she is the daughter
Of the one who planets themselves rotate for - Zahra
Her shadow was guarded by the one whose very birth
Left upon the Ka’ba we prostrate to, a scar
The veil of Zainab could have cloaked the Ka’ba
And prevented idols being placed there by kuffar
For the blood of her father flows through her veins
The blood of the certainty of only one Allah
Generosity raised her, the qowl of her mother
Her mind constantly recited ‘al jar thuma dar’
Up close, women who’d meet her, would perhaps meet Ali
While men would see Zahra when they’d see her from afar
It may be that she witnessed the door of her house break
But the hand that broke it left the same door ajar
And from it she emerged, a light that cannot be killed
A beacon for the oppressed, wherever they are
The hand that hurt her mother, broken, left in ruin
While she rises like a Phoenix from the smoke of Medina
She set the standard of patience, a standard-bearer
Walking in the footsteps of Abbas, her brother
It’s as if they were twins, Abu Fadhil and Zainab
He could have led the women and she’d be the flagbearer
She could have been buried in a shrine with tattooed arms
And after visiting Hussain, to her would flock lovers
And at night eyes would be torn between stars and Earth
For around the dome of her shrine would circle fallen stars
But she was not buried there, she was buried in Shaam
And how much we yearn to visit Shaam as weary travellers
And sit by her grave, our heads bowed in humility
For what are our own hardships when compared to hers?
And yet her motherly care puts us before herself
For at the door of Zainab’s heart sits the hearts of Ali’s Shia
And when we die and have our sins sitting on our chests
And we who mourned Hussain have no other helper
Zainab Bint Ali the Queen of Calamity
Shall be for us poor souls, our interceder and saviour
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Nouri Sardar
London - 09/12/21