Rivers of Serenity

"Is there a vacant space for my tears, Where I could let them speak for me?" — An admirer of the Prophet (PBUH) and his beloved Ahlul Bayt (AS) Poetry by Sahar H.

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All I asked...

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With Zahra’s prayers, there to protect you and me Let fear not encroach you, Oh mothers of my community.

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I am Hazara (2)

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I am Hazara.

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Hussain’s Name

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(یا فاطمه زهرا (س

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Bibi, the last zarb is here to come Your Hussain, to his wounds shall now succumb

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Your mother’s ribs, broke once again...

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I shiver thinking of your exhausted heart,  Faint with thirst, the blood-stained beard.

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Your longing for matam, has all been heard.

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For it is a promise we have made to our mother, Zahra (SA)

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Bil Hussain-i

[Baynul Haramain] Footsteps syncing to the rhythm of my heart as I traverse in wajd, between the two shrines. “What has he lost who has found you?” And to this zikr my heart has truly professed. The sun, moon and all the constellations Have all circled the court of this noble soil in awe of the beauties adorning this land. It is here, that I have seen Expressions of faith Whispered confessions The tears of mourners and the cries of mothers To the elegies that grows to a weight like grief. And yet, amidst the sea of visitors arriving here Ae Sakhi Ibne Sakhi, Drowned in your love, humbled by your generosity For never once, Ibne Zehra o Ali Have you disregarded any one of your devotees.

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اللهی بلحسین

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Be a watcher For sooner or later, Right before your very eyes A celebration will be hosted By heavens, for the earth.

اللهم عجل لولیک الفرج

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With only a few days to go before the auspicious dawn Turns out we’re rattled by the climate of uncertainty. In moments like this, it just happens to be we’re hurled into an unthinkable oblivion. Tired, panic-stricken, grieving and isolated The fifteenth this year, has dawned upon me. Turns out My Ariza this year will be my narrative not wrapped up, handwritten and buried, but ‘speaketh’ in words. In a low broken voice, be read out to you. Turns out This year I can feel your pain. The empty shrines, the forsaken grounds Suspended pilgrimage: masajid on lockdown. If the world repents and tears swell up the oceans By God, it is being away from you, that is greater grief. Turns out This fifteenth, in complete isolation I can weep and wail, lament and cry (nudba) only for your safety, only for your return. —  Sahar Hussain