Fatima al-Zahraa is beyond human comprehension–her story is too lofty for my pen but I write with wishes and hope I can attain a fraction of her heart’s recognition
These words do no justice to the Lady of Light but I write with every ounce of my heart and hope that I can preserve her sanctity
Fatima is known as zakiyyah because she was the only scent of paradise on this earth–the stars gaze upon her with envy of her light, but her light is not confined within, it illuminates the hearts of those who know the truth
Fatima’s words displayed powerful modesty even when the enemies threatened that her rights would be devoured
The enemies came to the sacred home of the AhlulBayt (a) in search for Ali–allegiance from Ali was their only goal, even if it meant killing anyone in their way, even if it was Fatima that they had to slay
Mercy was eradicated from their hearts; who am I kidding, their hearts never even contained the fragrance of Mercy, let alone smell it
Fatima told the oppressors that she was behind the door, and they replied, “so what!”
And with their cursed tongues they replied, “so what!”
As I try to wrap my mind around such ignorance, I grieve over the body that was trampled by the door–I grieve over the body that was drowned in its own blood
I sit in awe and in utter disbelief when I realize how careless they were with you, ya Fatima
Ya Fatima, the pain of your broken rib is littered in my thoughts. The smirks of arrogant tyrants haunt my heart. How can people rejoice in your pain, Ya Fatima? How can they rejoice in your pain? How can they smile while the Prophet of Allah (swt) weeps?
O cursed ones, what about the grief of Ali? Does his pain mean nothing to you?
Hypocrisy stains their reputation and hatred flourishes in their heart
They stole the only thing that brought Ali serenity, he had to adopt patience even when he saw her bruises
He had to adopt patience even when he felt the broken rib of Fatima with his bare hands
Ya Ali, how was your state when you came home to nothing but a broken heart and a life without Fatima?
Fatima’s tragedy is the distinction between haqq and batil, between truth and falsehood
She sacrificed her life for the truth–she paved this path with her broken body
We are the Shia of Fatima
We are the sons of Fatima and our tears will flow like an ongoing river until the day of resurrection–we will never forget your day, ya Fatima.
We will never forget the rib that speaks to the oppressors of today
If you cannot see Pakistan, Palestine, Yemen, Iraq and all those who are oppressed in Fatima’s tragedy, then you aren’t looking hard enough
If you cannot see the massacre of little children in Fatima’s broken rib then maybe you shouldn’t let the comfortable lifestyle obscure your vision
If you cannot see the wood that burns the house of Fatima in the missiles that pour down on Yemen, then take a dose of reality
If you cannot see the drone attacks on Pakistan in the downfall of Fatima’s house, then wake up and smell the corruption
