Category: Poetry

The Unseen Weeper

Featured ~ Rubab ~ Leave a comment

In a majlis full of souls that ponder, weep, and grieve
There is a man who sits among us, who the people seldom see
His heart encompasses the pain of the whole of humankind
His soul a finite mirror of the love of the Divine
He is acquainted with the secrets within the heart of every being
He makes dua for every lover, for our guidance and well-being
And every time our hearts grow heavy with the burden of our sins
He experiences that heaviness, as if it belongs to him

In this age of dhulumaat, where darkness reigns supreme
mankind is dazed in slumber, as if caught within a dream
and the heart of every lover has grown restless in its cage
as it seeks a sanctuary in this catastrophic age
Where genocide goes unpunished, and colonizers get ovations
For the rates at which they bomb children dying of starvation.

Tonight, we offer our condolences to the Master of our time
The one whose justice we await to shift the broken paradigm
Of this wounded, dying world, built on capital exploitation
Enriched by the dying embers of systematic deprivation

Please illuminate the way, beloved Master of our time
In this world that stands submerged beneath the gravity of crimes
Too numerous to mention, too horrific to recount
With enemies too powerful for the weak ones to surmount

No longer can we bear the sight of children set aflame
No longer can we tolerate their agony and pain
For in the faces of the children that flee the burning tents of Rafah
We see the shadow of a girl who fled a tent in Karbala
As her clothing caught on fire, and her tender cheeks were bruised
By the shameless slaps of tyrants and their merciless abuse.

The revolution of Hussain lives on within our rage
As we vow to rise against the Yazid of every age
Ya Muntaqim, ya Qaim, as we weep for Ababdillah
Deepen our wilayah, and our submission- o Allah!
Grant us the taufeeq to bear witness to his reign
Grant us the taufeeq to join the avenger of Hussain

May our salaams be unto you, ya Baqiyat al Anbiya
May our salaams be unto you, Master of the awliya
Please grant us your ziyarah, with our hearts and with our eyes
Please grant us your wilayah, in every era of our lives
And on the day when hearts are weeping, for the fear of Allah’s wrath
O beloved of Zahra, keep us firm upon your path
O Hujjah of our time, may our hearts belong to you
Please forgive our sinful souls, as we make our way to you.

Meet Me at Dusk, Beloved

~ Rubab ~ Leave a comment

Meet me at dusk, Beloved,
let’s get lost in the soft rumor of the night’s heartbeat

I linger like a myth on the shadow of the waves
The mystic moon hangs wreaths of stars above us
Weave my spirit into the passionate longing of the night
Kiss me as the music of the moon kisses the gleaming petals of the rose

Haven’t we endured this distance long enough?
Let’s fall into each other’s arms like tired stars
And bless the night with the borrowed dream of starswept lovers
drunk on the wine of Eternity.

Come sweeten this separation
with the moonlit honey of reunion;
meet me at dusk, Beloved.

x r

A Celebration of Love: A Poem on the Birth of Lady Fatima (as)

~ Rubab ~ Leave a comment

Audio: https://soundcloud.com/rubabwrites/a-celebration-of-love-a-poem-on-the-birth-of-lady-fatima-as

A few years after Bi’tha, in the sixth month of the year,
the Prophet’s household is aglow, for the birth of Fatima is near.
The horizons start to blush at the rumor of her grace;
the stars gleam in anticipation of the beauty of her face.
The moon shyly bows its head out of hayaa and respect
and the sun composes poetry in a luminous dialect.
The celebration of her existence stirs every atom on the earth
as if the universe was created in anticipation of her birth.

A fruit from a forbidden tree brought Adam out of Jannah
yet the fruit the Prophet ate contained the pathway back to Jannah;
For within that fruit of Paradise was the light of Fatima
and the secret of salvation is the pleasure of Zahra.
She is the ever-flowing fountain, quenching the thirst of every soul
between nabuwwah and imamah, she is the link that makes them whole.

As i congratulate the ummah on the dawning of this night
My deepest felicitations are for the lover of that light;
For within the union of Ali and his beloved Fatima
lies the pathway of reunion between the human and Allah.
The power of Ali is often measured by his sword,
but the backbone of his strength was the woman he adored.

And if Ali divorced the world, why should a lover feel surprised?
What are a hundred billion galaxies compared to Zahra’s eyes?
With a single loving glance, she could heal his aching heart
like a rose that leaves its fragrance long after it departs.
She was the refuge of his secrets, the blood within his veins;
she was the yusr that was promised at the heart of every pain.
They were two seas that flowed in unison, giving birth to pearls and coral
A love that unveiled eternity into a universe temporal.

As we celebrate her coming, we celebrate our own revival
For the fulfillment of all creation lies in Fatima’s arrival.
For a woman whose heart awakens to the love of Fatima
becomes a bridge that brings the ones she loves closer to Allah.
And a man whose heart has grasped the nobility of Ali
Will not rest until he frees his soul from the nafs’s tyranny.
For Tawhid is the deepest yearning, at the core of every soul
No matter where our paths diverge, we all share this common goal
So the heart of every creature seeks the doorstep of Zahra
And this threshold bears the perfect path that returns us to Allah.

x r

a poem for majnun

~ Rubab ~ Leave a comment

that night, when Layla became a perpetual figment of his daydreams,
perhaps he felt an insatiable desire to kiss the cheek of God;
perhaps he wondered if it would feel as soft as hers,
perhaps his worship had never tasted sweeter
for she had awakened his heart to the meaning of Beauty

when she fell like sacred sunlight upon the desolate field of his heart,
bathing his sorrows in golden light,
when he laid down the cold blade of judgment
and spared her exposed throat
perhaps he felt the breath of Divine mercy surging through him
and knew Love as he had never known it before

the night he found himself powerless against the dark tenderness of her eyes
perhaps he unsheathed his heart for the first time,
laying down the armor he’d clung to all his life
perhaps he learned the futility of logic as he tried to remember all the reasons he shouldn’t
while his intoxicated heart insisted that he must

perhaps he came to know her as the moon come down in human form for a while
perhaps his soul became a starlit night
eternally restless for her presence,
and she, incomplete without him

x r

Ya Ali

~ Rubab ~ 2 Comments

There was a name my mother taught me, long before I learned to speak
That I could utter like a prayer if I felt frightened, lost, or weak.
This name- its letters carried me, and made of me a sparrow
Casting light on every wayward path, no matter how dark or narrow.
Every time I speak aloud this name in moments I need aid,
It’s like wings begin emerging from between my shoulder blades.
When my heart is caught off guard, it returns me to my self
And points me to the sacred book that sits upon my shelf.

It was among the holy names my Creator taught to Prophet Adam;
Among the holiest of secrets that the angels couldn’t fathom.
It is the name I whisper quietly, in the face of every need,
It was the name on Zainab’s weary lips, in the courtyard of Yazid.
It is the name that grants me entry, into the city of ‘ilm and hikmah;
It is the name that completes religion, as revealed in Ma’idah.
It was the name Rasulallah called out, like a cry of victory
When he sought the bravest of his sahaba, who would not hesitate or flee.
Peace be upon that warrior, the fearless lion of Allah;
The nafs of the Holy Prophet, and the beloved of Zahra.
The one born within the walls of the holiest of places,
Whose eyes would only open for the holiest of faces.

Our brothers often ask us, why we rave about Ali
Instead of talking about God or Rahmatul lil Alameen.
The merits of the Prophet, aren’t denied by anyone,
So many ayaat of the Qur’an confirm that he’s the greatest one.
But so many titles of Ali, were usurped by his enemies
Who may have called themselves Siddiq, Farooq, and al Ghani,
To them I say, remember when, our Prophet’s life was at an end,
And the last of his requests, was some paper and a pen?
You didn’t heed his dying wish, to write the name of his wali,
So it’s that sunnah we carry out, when we write the merits of Ali.

If you want me to accept, another Amirul Mu’mineen
Find me a man who loved Allah, as profoundly as Ali.
Within a single munajaat, I find the pinnacle of Tawhid;
With the exception of the Prophet, no one knew God like Ali.
Born in the house of God, and martyred while he worshiped
Ali’s life began with haqq, and the life of haqq became Ali.

It is the wish of every poet to touch the heavens with her words,
To take a lifeless set of letters and transform them into birds,
But the essence of my subject, is far beyond the reach of ink
For Ali exceeds the reach of those who philosophize and think.
They try to moderate this love, to confine its outer limits
Because it hasn’t taken root within the essence of their spirits
For wilayah is the bridge that unites the soul with its Creator;
If Tawhid is the highest level, wilayah is the elevator.
But to comprehend wilayah, and gain that immortal elevation
We must replace the filth of ego with pure intoxication.
There’s no room for multiplicity, the heart only serves one master
To put anyone before him, results in fitnah and disaster.

The ‘ishq of Ali possesses me, and makes a home within my being
It gives my eyes a newfound sight, that sees without physically seeing.
This love that set aflame the jealous heart of Ubaidullah
Still infuriates the admirers of the likes of Muawiyah.
But no matter what our enemies say, I will write about wilayah
With the single-minded passion, of Majnun in love with Layla.

I swear by that lonely man, who gave his secrets to the earth
This love exceeds the universe, in both resonance and worth.
This love flows within the blood, that courses through my veins
It exceeds the seven oceans and every depth that they contain.
Like Abu Dhar al Ghifari, I would rather roam the desert sands,
Than contemplate the leadership of any other man;
I can not call myself a Shi’a, but it remains my only dream
to become worthy of the path of Amirul Mu’mineen.
So like Maytham at Tammar, may my tongue be sacrificed
And may this passion stay alive after the last of us has died.

–Rubab Zaidi

Audio: https://soundcloud.com/rubabwrites/ya-ali