Household of Gold

Poem 7: Zainab is her name!

Today the blessings of the heavens opened as a moon into the house of Ali,
She descends in her glory and the moon hides in her awe of her beauty,
Even the sun dare not gaze upon her to protect her modesty,
Stars rotate around her magnanimity.

Zainab is her name,
A name that can move mountains,
For which other woman can be known as a princess in the heavens,
This name shook each place that she is summoned.

And courage applauds her valour,
Many women can be brave but only one can become Islam's flagbearer,
Protecting others without the need for armour,
One strike from her tongue can make everyone cower,
The sister of Abbas is also a soldier.

No one on this Earth would see what you see,
And still compliment the Lord on His beauty,
I'm inspired by your mention,
Oh holy lady,
My tongue calls to you in both celebrations and calamities,
Each letter in your name serves as in your praise poetry,
This is your station oh Zainab daughter of Ali.

I say to my sisters and mothers,
Protect this hijab,
For this is her banner,
Wear it with every being of your fibre,
Let this crown make you hold your head up higher
This is your armour,
It sends an attack to your oppresse

Look at her shrine in Syria,
Standing tall with pride and honour,
It sends a message to those wishing for terror,
Where you wanted to defame her,
Look at who you are and then look at Sani e Zahra,
You are forgotten like the names of your ancestor and like her father,
She is the victor,
The warrior in the face of horror,
She is the champion and the winner.

She taught me patience when the world crumbles around you,
Never bow down to that which is not true,
Have patience that a light at the end of this dark tunnel will see you through,
She is my strength and through her love my heart grew,
No longer did my eyes shed tears when her story I knew,
For no matter what we see in this dunya,
Is nothing compared to the strength held by the daughter of Fatima.

Oh my Lady forgive me if my pen was unable to show the world your beauty,
But in this failure is my victory for who can truly describe even an ounce of your personality,
Indebted to you is humanity,
Your service to God is your legacy.

Oh Lady Zainab my mistress,
Grant me this prayer that escapes my lips as a whisper,
Let me visit your shrine in Syria,
Sit beside your grave and recite in your honour,
And see the flag of your brother fluttering in the breeze as your protector.