By Aisha A. Muqit
Islamic Post Staff Writer
Bismillahir Rahman nir Rahim, As Salaatu was Salaamu alayka Ya RasoolAllah.
This poem is dedicated to the King, may Allah’s peace be upon him eternally, his Ahli Bait, Holy Companions, and Awliya. He is Here (peace be upon him)!
The King is arriving.
He will be here soon…
The King is Arriving, Is Everyone Aware?
The King is Arriving, We must Prepare!
Listen, the time grows near.
The Approach of the King,
He will soon be Here…
The King is Arriving, Is Everyone Aware?
The King is Arriving, We must be prepared!
Quiet the children. Are they tidy and clean?
The child in ourselves, is it fully trained
to serve the King?
Just to be sure, let me check everything.
Just to be sure all is ready for the Arrival of the King…
Do I have on my finest dress?
Does Dhikr Hoo, pound in my chest?
Did I apply my kohl, and ittar?
Have I performed all my Salat,
Is the castle clean, are all the cobwebs gone?
Have I banished unruly thoughts, that ruin the calm?
Have I swept all the rooms and the halls?
Washed away any dark spots on the walls?
Do the windows shine with that special glow?
Have they been scrubbed with Dhikr of the Qadri Rose?
Has Incense been lit to perfume the air,
Na’ats and poems written with care?
Is the Red Carpet, all rolled out,
Flowers of every color, strewn about?
Are hearts, welcoming the Coming Strides,
Decorated with D’roods sung with pride?
The reds of D’rood Taj, the green of ‘Ya Sayyiddi;’ and, of course, the whites of ‘Ya Nabi!’
Ya Rabb! is that steps I hear?
Has that much time disappeared?
The King is Arriving …
I feel the intensity increase.
Here comes our King, Ya Mureeds!
Look… There… Bursting upon the Horizon,
More brilliant than a high-noon sun,
The Noble Entourage enters sight.
Oh Lovers! What a Blessed Time!
The King is Coming, “Rejoice!” fills the air.
All of Creation stand prepared
To greet the King of Both Worlds,
The Glory of the Kingdom lies Unfurled!
Surrounding the King like a Perfect Bouquet:
His Sahabah Akram and Ahli Bait,
Seven Noori Beings Glowing in their Wake.
The Ambiya and Awliya also fill the ranks.
Their arrival brings cries of Welcome
Behold the Star of the Blessed Five,
The King, with His Princes By His side!
Majestically Flanking our King Today,
Are the Royal Shahidain,
Imamain, Hasan wa Hussain.
Both Sacrificed their lives for the Deen,
Betrayed by so called ‘Muslimeen’
Leaders of the Youth of Jannah
Pure Examples for the Ummah.
Oh My Rabb! Next I see,
The Queen of All Jennatis
Draped in a chaddar, Brilliant White,
All Must Lower their gaze at her sight.
Her Majesty, Syeda Fatimah tuz Zahra
First Sultana of Awliya!
Her mantle, I have many times seen;
Yet I never imagined the Grace of this Queen!
My Qalb is pounding, deafening now…
For next to this Perfect Queen,
Is the Door to the King!
Oh Beloved Hazrat Ali,
Master of Hikma and Ma’arfa,
Master of Every Sufi and the Awliya.
Fierce Lion, carrying Zulfiqar,
Guards the King, with Skill and Valor.
…Softly, a spring breeze touches my cheek,
And I know it is my King that Next I’ll see!
Our wait is over! We Wait No More!
Resplendently, Our Noble King
enters His Court!
Our King has Arrived! Our King has Arrived!
Ya Mustafa! Ya Mujtaba!
Shukr wal Hamdulillah! Shukr wal Hamdulillah!
Ya Rahmatulil Alameen, Sall Allahoo alayka wa sallam!
Reason for the Creation of Everything
My Heart, My Love, Most Honorable King!
Oh Embodiement of Allah’s,
Uncreated Noori Jamal!
We Your Humble Subjects, gathered Here…
Glistening in our Endless Tears…
Have eagerly awaited this day
When we can personally say:
We Stand Ready For Your Command!
Labbayk! Labbayk! Ya RasulAllah (Sall Allahoo alayka wa sallam!)
Please! Come Take Our Hands!
If not for You, we would not exist!
There is NO life without you in our Midst!
We, Your Lovers, Loyal and True,
Desire only to Stand Behind You!
We’ve Been Carefully Prepared
For this Day;
Our Murshid Has Guided us Every Step of the Way;
Will You Accept Us Under Your Sway?
Ya Hareesun Alaykum!
Please Forgive the wrong we do!
Though we are Faulty,
We are in Love You!
Lead us to the Ultimate Victory.
Reveal to us the Great Mystery:
Immersion in our Rabb and Eternal Life,
Beyond all Hardship, Miseries and Strife!
…Suddenly, I Feel A Glance.
…I sense His (Sall Allahoo alayhi wa sallam) Gaze.
…Everything in me stands Amazed…
The Most Beloved
Of all whom are Loved,
He Glances, at this Humble Dove.
Exultingly, I feel wings in my chest beat…
I feel “Hoo, Hoo, Hoo!”
I no longer have any Feet…
Flying High Upon the Smile,
That stayed upon me
for just a short while.
My King Arrived,
And I recognized…
My King Had Always Been Here,
And He is Never Going Anywhere.
Within my Qalb is Where He Stays,
Within my Being, Now and Always…
Huwa Hunaa… He is Here!
Huwa Hunaa… Ever Near . .
Huwaa Hunaa… Never Fear!
He is Here and He Loves,
More than Love Itself.
For HE IS Love,
(Sall Allahoo Alayhi wa sallam).
Undoubtedly Alive, an explanation.
There are many misinformed and misled people who say that the Holy Last Messenger, Muhammad (may the peace and blessings of Allah be upon him), is dead and mixed with the sand, Astaghfirullah! God willing, below you will find proof from the Glorious Qur’an, Ahadith, as well as from eminent scholars of Islam that shows that all the Prophets of Allah including Rasoolullah (peace be upon him) are undoubtedly alive.
The Prophets of Almighty Allah are alive like they were alive on earth. They eat, drink and come and go [to this Earth] as they wish. To fulfill the promise of Allah Almighty, “Every soul is to taste death [Holy Qur’an 21:35], they tasted death for a moment and were given life again. Thereafter they were given the same life in their graves as they had on earth. The same laws of this world apply to them in their graves. Therefore their estate or belongings are not distributed as inheritance. It is haraam for their pious wives to remarry and there is no ‘iddah period for their pious wives. Prophets of God eat, drink, and perform salaah in their graves as they normally did during their lives on earth. [Bahaare Shariat; Malfooz Shareef]
Allah the Most High states in the Holy Qur’an: “Surely you shall die, and surely they shall also die. [39:30] In truth, [for them] this death is just for a moment and not for eternity otherwise the Holy Qur’an also states regarding the shuhadah (Martyrs), “And they are alive, but you are unaware.”
Furthermore, the Ascension which Rasoolullah (peace be upon him) went also shows that the Prophets are alive. Rasoolullah (peace be upon him) met Hazrat Moosa (Moses, peace be upon him) on that night and even spoke to him. In fact, it was due to the help of Hazrat Moosa (peace be upon him) that the salaah was reduced from 50 to five times a day for us. This shows that the pious servants of Allah Almighty are alive and can also provide help even after their demise. [Tafseer Noorul Irfaan]
Allah the Most High states in the Glorious Qur’an, “And ask those of Our Messengers whom We sent before you: “Did We appoint some other gods besides the Most Affectionate to be worshipped?” [43:45] This again refers to the night of Me’raj, or Ascension and, after the salaah in Masjidul Aqsa, Rasoolullah (peace be upon him) was told to ask the Prophets before him. One can only ask that person who is able to hear and to give a reply. Furthermore, this shows that the Blessed Prophets after their demise travel in the world and meet one another. They are therefore neither dead nor are they detained in their graves. [Tafseer Noorul Irfaan, Tafseer Roohul Ma’aani]
In another verse Allah Almighty states, “And do not say about those who are slain in the path of Allah as dead. Rather, they are alive, but you are unaware of it.” [2:154] If Allah the Most High tells us not to call the shuhadah dead, how then can anyone say that Rasoolullah (peace be upon him) is dead (Astaghfirullah!), when even the shuhadah have received their martyrdom through the blessing of Rasoolullah (peace be upon him)? [Editor’s note: This refers to the mercy of Allah being bestowed upon the shuhada. The Holy Last Messenger (peace be upon him) once prayed for mercy upon one of his companions and the man gained shahada. Rasoolullah is also the Mercy to All the Worlds.] Furthermore, the Prophets are much more exalted than the shuhadah, therefore if the shuhadah are alive then undoubtedly the Prophets are alive. [Fathul Baari Sharah Bukhari ]
Allah, Exalted is He, further states: “And those that have been slain in the path of Allah, never think of them as dead; but they are alive with their Lord, from Whom they get their subsistence.” [3:169] From this we learn that the bodies and spirits of the martyrs are both alive. They are both physically and spiritually alive. It is for this reason that their bodies do not decay in the grave. [Note: This phenomena has been proven true regarding all people killed unjustly. The text does not at all refer to those misguided people who commit suicide.]
Furthermore, the souls of martyrs journey through paradise in the form of green birds and they eat and drink whatever they desire. [Tafseer Noorul Irfaan] If the martyrs are alive and eat and drink whatever they desire, what then is the status of Rasoolullah (peace be upon him) who is the most exalted of all creation?
Rasoolullah (peace be upon him) once said, “Recite salawaat (durood, or blessings and peace) upon me in abundance on a Friday since it is a respected day. On that day the angels are present and whosoever sends salawaat upon me, then his salawaat is placed before me till the time when they have completed sending the salawaat.” Hazrat Abu Dardah (may Allah be pleased with him) said that he asked Rasoolullah (peace be upon him), “Oh Rasoolullah, will you even hear the salawaat after your demise?” Our Beloved Master (peace be upon him) said, “Verily Almighty Allah has made it forbidden for the earth to devour the bodies of the Ambiya (Messengers, or some say Prophets, of God, peace be upon them). Thus, all the Messengers of Allah are alive and they are given sustenance.” [Ibn Majah; Jaame Sagheer; Mishkaat Shareef]
We learn from this that the Ambiya (peace be upon them all) are alive and they have only been hidden from us. We cannot understand their position: similar to that of the angels that are alive and present but we cannot see them. Those whom Allah Almighty has blessed, they can see them. Thus it has been confirmed that the Ambiya (peace be upon them) are alive. [Umdatul Qaari Sharah Bukhari] Sayyiduna Rasoolullah (peace be upon him) once saw a Prophet performing Hajj, calling out “Labbaik” and even performing salaah. All the Prophets were present at Masjidul Aqsa on the night of Me’raj and they all performed salaah in jama’at with Rasoolullah (peace be upon him). [Zarqaani Alal Mawaahib]
We can therefore see that there is no doubt that Rasoolullah (peace be upon him) and all the Ambiya are alive, both spiritually and physically. Anyone who says otherwise is denying what the Holy Qur’an and Hadith teaches us. Source: Raza-e-Khushtar Team /IQOU-MOA.org
Filed under: Magazine/ Culture, March Volume 2009, Poetry | Tags: Islamic miracle
Islamic Miracles in United States
Far from the hustle and bustle of city noises and distractions, one finds a greater opportunity to look into one’s heart, to explore and to experience the miracles within. This happens often amidst the peaceful and natural surroundings of two particular rural Muslim American villages. These villages are the homes of two of the world’s most revered places of spiritual reflection and retreat (khanqah): the Holy Khanqah Gilania Sufi Lodge #I (South Carolina, USA) and the Holy Khanqah Gilania Sufi Lodge #II (New York,USA).
This new year started off in a most exciting way. One Friday in January, as the Muslim villagers attended, on the day of Jumu’a, the Friday congregational prayers, yet another miraculous sign from Almighty Allah shone in the Holy Khanqah in Holy Islamville, SC. Approximately 40 people witnessed the name of the Holy Last Messenger, Muhammad (peace be upon him), written in Arabic in bright shining Noor (Divine Light) on the ceiling in the Holy Khanqah.
Below are a few accounts from the eye-witnesses to this miraculous manifestation:
Khalifah Ali Sahib: We completed the Jumu’a salaat and made a very intense du’a [supplication to the Creator] during which I noticed an intense bright light. After the du’a, I looked up and saw the Holy Last Messenger, Muhammad’s (peace be upon him) name, written clearly on the ceiling. A young boy (Muslihudeen A. Qayyum, aged 8) sitting next to me tapped me, pointing to the ceiling, and asked, “What’s that?” I replied, “It’s Ism Muhammad (the name of Muhammad, may Allah’s peace be upon him and his family.)
Muslihudeen A. Qayyum, age 8: I was looking around at the ceiling when I saw Ism Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him.) I told Khalifah Ali. He said, “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Chandani A. Qayyum, age 13: I was in the ladies’ section of the Holy Khanqah. Suddenly everyone stood up and headed towards the brothers’ side. Not understanding why, or what was happening, I remained seated. Then, I heard someone speak of an Ism Muhammad (peace be upon him) shining on the brothers’ side. I went to see for myself. One of my friends showed me the direction of the Ism. It was an Ism Muhammad (peace be upon him), and it was a Noori white light. I began to smile because I had never seen anything so beautiful before. This was actually my first time seeing such a miracle!”
Majeedah A. Qayyum: After finishing Jumu’a Salaat, we were about to proceed with Darood Salaam (a hymn of praise and peace for the Holy Last Messenger, Muhammad, peace be upon him) when Mayor Sha’ban requested his mother (Malikah Begum)to approach. He pointed out the ceiling on the men’s side, as it projected Ism Muhammad (peace be upon him.) He summoned others to witness. I walked in and saw the bright light. I clearly saw the two Meems. I went back and joined the Daroods. I returned and again saw the bright Noori letters.
Khayriyyahh A. Batin (14): On January 30, 2009 I went to the Holy Khanqah for Jumu’a prayer. We usually recite Duroods for the Holy Last Messenger after the Jumu’a prayers are over, but at this time I saw Auntie (Amirah Najah Qadria) standing on the men’s side; she said they had seen Ism Muhammad (peace be upon him). When all the ladies stood up to approach the miracle, I could not see. However, as soon as they left, the Ism was clear and beautiful. Masha Allah! That is the beauty that I witnessed.
Hanna A. Batin (15): On Friday, I witnessed a miracle. Written on the ceiling was [Ism] Muhammad (peace be upon him.) I was overwhelmed by the sight, so afterwards I made two rakaats [cycles of prayer] to thank Allah for this beautiful blessing He bestowed on me. I made du’a to Allah, the Most High, to keep me on the right path and to please help me.
Aisha Muqit: The Ism was bright, white Noori light. It was clear from all sides. Viewing from one side, one could see [the Arabic letters] Ha Meem, on the other side, Meem, Ha, Meem, Daal. The Meem in the middle was extremely bright. The Ism was not static, it moved and changed as we watched .
Ashiqah A. Alim (13): One of the ladies announced that people had witnessed Ism Muhammad (peace be upon him) on the ceiling. So I looked on the men’s side and there I saw Ism Muhammad (peace be upon him) clear as daylight.
All Praises and thanks are to the Almighty Creator of all the Worlds. These miracles we witnessed in 2009 are no impossibility, as they have occurred for over a decade in the Holy Khanqah (Sufi Lodge #1 in SC) and, as of last August, in Sufi Lodge #2 in NY. Six months ago, the name of Hazrat Ali (May Allah ennoble his countenance) was seen shining.
Just last month Hazrat Ali’s name was seen in the moon of the 13th of Muharram. His Eminence, Mubarik Ali Shah Gilani, our spiritual guide, explained that this meant that Hazrat Ali’s descendants will be victorious world leaders. Now we see the will of the Almighty Creator is being fulfilled with the presidency of Syed Barack Hussein Obama. The United States President is a descendant of the Holy Last Messenger, Hazrat Ali and Hazrat Fatimah (may the peace of Allah be upon the Holy Last Messenger, Muhammad, and his noble family.) Allah does what He wills and He is the Best of Planners.
These miraculous signs have appeared as both a warning and glad tidings, informing those who would seek to put out Allah’s light (however intense might be there efforts of false propaganda) that never ever will Al-Islam be diminished or finished.
On the contrary, Al-Islam will be regarded in the highest degree of respect and love as a comfort and source of assurance to the believers worldwide.
-Umm Shafi contributed to this report.
By Ahmad Qadri
Islamic Post Staff Writer
Row your vessel in to ocean of reality until every one of your muscles of pretentiousness are totally exhausted.
Throw your ores and ego to the sharks, for now it’s all Heart.
Let the wind of Yaqin impregnate the sails.
Your pilot (Pir) has set the attitude of your sails to catch winds that will most benefit and heighten the vantage point of your spiritual quest.
Everything you thought you were, you were not.
And everything you thought you were not, you are.
Repent for everything. Everything! Even for existing.
Il Allah, Il Allah, Il Allah…
Your vessel (Heart) embarked on the sea of Truth with 360 lairs,
360 madmen and egomaniacs, conspiring to sink this ship.
Their goal is to delude you. If you believe them, they will hurt you,
And you will hurt others, who may not forgive you.
360 false pilots swearing they can guide you.
Pick them up and throw them over board, until it is only you and your Lord.
Be like the magnificent Nabi Muhammad (peace be upon him) who destroyed 360 idols in the Kaaba.
Repent for everything. Everything! Even existing.
Il Allah, Il Allah, Il Allah…
Trust in the attitude of the sails set by the Pilot (Pir).
There is only Allah. Only Allah.
From to sea to sea, test and trials, stay in Dhikr,
until you lose self recognition.
Engage in Nafi/Asbat, negation and affirmation, as you reach a station
wherein every thought and after thought is Allah’s Greatness.
There is only Allah. Cast off your ungodly. There is only Allah. Cast off your malice and bitterness. Cast off the 360 idols from your heart. There is only Allah.
Drift in this world watching the movements of Allah’s will.
Until you only see , only Allah.
Repent for everything. Everything! Even existing.
Filed under: February Volume I- 2009, Magazine/ Culture, Poetry, Religion | Tags: Karbala, Muharram
Excerpts from The Marsiya, describing the Battle at Karbala
Written By Mir Anis
‘This morning brings an evening ever blessed:
We who depart for Paradise will slake
Our thirst by Kausar’s spring, and therein rest.
May God exalt our names for honor’s sake.’
Unequalled, each of them to joy gave birth
‘Let martyrs rise in glory from this earth.’
At this the faithful friends rose from their beds,
And donning glorious raiment combed their hair;
Then tying turbans on their noble heads,
They faced the peerless Lord and gathered there.
Wrapped in colored cloaks, their fear grew less;
Rose perfume, musk and civet filed their dress.
Their dry lips sang the praise of God; and light
Shone on their faces; fear was put aside.
No grief or panic clouded o’er their sight;
They joked and laughed and shared their skills with pride.
Their charming accents gladdened every ear;
Each word they uttered was a joy to hear.
The kinsmen of the King stepped from their tent,
Fatima’s darlings all of beauteous face;
Qasim the fair and Akbar heaven-sent,
Aqil and Muslim, Jafar’s valiant race.
Their countenances lit the sky around.
The flower of eighteen suns stood on the ground.
That morning ‘neath the shadow of the stars!
If Moses, who called God on Sinai,
Had seen their light that with the vision jars,
He would have swooned. Celestial majesty
Was echoed by the birds’ song in the bowers
Of the desert valley filled with fragrant flowers.
And here amid the thongs the Prophet’s flowers
Imparted fragrance to the desert lands;
The house of Fatima faced its last hours
In the garden planted by Muhammad’s (sas) hands
This garden cut down in those ten days,
By traitors wasted, cruelly set ablaze.
Then suddenly the dawn’s white light came in;
To lead the prayers the King came from his throne.
All stood behind the Lord of Men and Jinn;
Ali Akbar called the prayer in Hassan’s tone.
The eyes of everyone were filled with tears.
As if the Prophet’s voice fell on their ears.
The birds fell silent; trees in ecstasy
Rocked to an’ fro; their buds and fruit sang praise.
The towns and deserts joined in harmony,
And ocean-beasts emerged to hear their lays.
The darling of Shabbir to all lent weight;
O’er land and sea they cried: ‘Our God is great!’
‘Make ready for your worship!’ came the cry.
The King of all Creation leaves his seat.
In ranks of light the Leader passes by;
Salvation’s path bows down to touch his feet.
His radiance in the highest heaven will reign.
The Qur’an became a prayer-mat for Hussein.
The company’s prayers were verses from that age;
Like ‘Bismillah’ the King stood at their head;
The ranks were lines of writing on the page,
And proudly stood behind the one who led.
The dawn blinked at the whiteness shown between
The rows of words that Ali once had seen.
They stood, then bowed; their prayers flew to the sky;
To the One Existing Lord they showed devotion.
Prostrate upon the ground, their time passed by;
Their hands, their arms, their feet betrayed no motion.
But of their own dire plight, they made no word.
They prayed beneath the shadow of the sword.
The prayer of the King of Men was now compete;
His thirsty friends came forth to shake his hand.
One kissed his cheek, another touched his feet;
What stalwart spirits had this hungry band!
His soldiers pledged their faith with every breath;
Embracing on the feast-day of their death.
To Ali Akbar he made his behest:
‘On treachery our evil foe is bent.
Life of my soul, go where the women rest,
And lead them from the forecourt to the tent.
Through negligence let no child come to grief;
For Asghar’s neck is the target of the thief.’
The Sky-Throned King had thus addressed his son,
When Fazza cried from the porch: ‘Behold our plight!
Oh Lord, now where may Ali’s daughters run?
The children have been crying through the night.
Suffocated by the heat they weep,
But now in the morning breeze they got to sleep.
‘At Karbala the traveler is undone!
An assault upon a Sayyid, loved by all!
In foreign lands can battle e’er be won?
Have mercy on these babes so frail and small.
They die of hunger; thirst has plunged its sword.
They are your Holy Prophet’s family, Lord!’
Drawing near, the Lord of Heaven spoke:
‘Be not thou troubled. All thy prayers are heard.
Our cursed foe all faith and pledges broke,
And now they will learn justice at my word.
This is no time, my sister, for they tears.
Bring forth the holy relics. Cease thy fears.’
Zainab brought the clothes the Prophet wore
When he went to Heaven on that night.
Hussein put on his turban, and once more
He donned the cloak to which he had the right.
Those holy garments fitted perfectly;
The scarf of Fatima, his legacy.
The Prophet’s fragrance wafted from his train.
No bridegroom knew such perfume from a bride.
Haidar, Fatima, Hasan, Hussein.
The scent of the Holy Five on every side
Was squandered on the vale; the swaying flowers!
In Paradise Rizwan racked in its showers.
He fixed the sword that he alone could wield;
The crescent moon grew frantic in the sky;
Up to his shoulder mounted Hamza’s shield,
Whose dignity increased when raised on high.
The mark of Prophethood was its proud gain
From being on the shoulder of Hussein.
The Lord of High and Low in arms was dressed;
The Sayyid’s standard stood before the band.
The women, hair disheveled, were distressed;
His sister clutched the pole with trembling hand.
With swords bound to their waists, on battle bent,
The sons of Zainab came before the tent.
‘The bearer of the standard is thy choice.’
‘The King of Heaven must choose.’ Zainab replied.
‘Thou wert declared our mother with one voice’,
Answered Hussein, ‘the day that Fatima died.
So now must thou decide; for thee to say
Which one will bear the standard to the fray.’
Zainab answered: ‘I can do no more.
For thou art Leader of the Strong and Weak,
And after the Quran they word is law.
But if it is thy will that I should speak,
Then I would choose the brave Abbas [for the standard]. For me
In valour no one stands as high as he.
‘He loves thee; he is thine obedient slave;
A younger brother who will give his life
For thee, and fight with strength among the brave;
A worthy son in time of war and strive;
A lion-hearted general, good and fair.
With his great courage no one can compare,’
Standard in hand, Abbas to action fell.
The barefoot women ran with hair disheveled.
The Lord cried: ‘Brood of Mustafa, farewell!
We part. ‘Tis time the scores were duly leveled.
This is the morning of the night of sorrow.
Our fading stars unite to greet the morrow.’
Grief-stricken, Zainab fell before Hussein;
And Bano, stumbling, fell before her son;
Trembling, Kulsum fell, her heart in pain;
Sakina, Baqir fell down one by one.
The garden despoiled, no gay flowers danced;
The standard like a funeral-bier advanced.
[When]‘mid dead and dying stood the lone Imam,
The Prophet’s cloak was soaked in crimson gore.
Dejected, anxious, thirsty, in alarm,
He heard their victory drums; the enemies’ roar
Proclaiming slaughtered martyrs broke his heart;
It pierced his spirit like a poisoned dart.
Only he who grieves can understand.
The garden of life’s toil now wasted lay.
No rest from lamentation’s cruel hand.
The lamps were out that once burnt bright as day.
Scattered limbs exposed to seering heat;
On Ali Akbar’s corpse there was no sheet.
The King of the Age moved slowly to the tent;
He could not bring his thirsty lips to speak.
Lifting the flap, he cried: ‘My heart is rent!
My sister, it is Asghar that I seek.
Now bring him from his cradle to the door.
I long to see his moon-like face once more.’
He cradled Asghar in his warm embrace.
Outside in ambush lurked black Kahil’s son.
Who fired a three-pronged arrow from his place;
It’s target was the neck of the little one.
The baby writhed in pain; the Leader cried;
The tiny child was slaughtered by his side.
The baby died, and in the earth about
A little grave was fashioned by the sword.
The child was buried, and Hussein cried out;
‘Oh Holy Ground, be mindful of thy ward!
This love of Ali, keep him in thy care,
Ali’s pledge and Fatima’s treasure rare!’
He spoke and donned his shininge arms once more;
His eyes were bloodshiot, and his face was red.
Clothed in the Prophet’s cloak, now bent on war,
With Hamza’s shield lone to fight he sped;
With Zulfiqar, that sword of might and fame;
Muhammad’s (sas) armour graced his noble frame.
The mirror of the sky was scorched with heat,
And lighting dashed for shelter in the cloud.
Hot-tempered men could scarce stand on their feet.
For morning’s camphor cried the sun aloud.
The dome of elemental fire burnt red,
And clouds to even colder regions sped.
The son of Sa’d called: ‘Lord of Heaven, think!
Give me allegiance, for I mean no harm.
A cooling draught shall I give thee to drink.’
Hussein replied: ‘Ah wretch, respect Islam!
The son of Ali takes no gift from thee.
From thy hand water is but dust to me.
For if I asked, then Abraham would come
And fill my cup form the fount of Salsabil;
Woulds’t thou give me to drink, oh filthy scum?
With avaricious tyrants would I deal?
Thy very shadow causes flowers pain.
If thou art cut, no blood pours from thy vein.
‘And if I called, Jamshed would give his cup;
The Prophet (sas) would tell Gabriel to bring
A draught from Kausar’s spring for me to sup;
On earth the angels would my victory sing.
At my command the world would cease to be.
Iraq and Syria sink beneath the sea.
Intoning martial verses, Ali’s scion
Advanced with Gabriel’s had upon his shoulder.
Onward he advanced-a male lion-,
With sleeves rolled up; each step he took grew bolder.
The bride of battle was in splendor wreathed;
Hussein’s intrepid sword was now unsheathed.
The flaming sword was wrenched out of its cover,
As moonbeams fly, as perfume leaves the rose,
As a comely maiden taken from her lover,
As breath departs the breast, as red blood flows.
When thunder roared and all the air did swell,
Laila swooned and from her litter fell.
Hussein swooped like an eagle from on high,
As lions in the jungle pounce on deer.
The heavens flashed; the clouds began to cry;
His horse rushed down like water swift and sheer.
The sharp sword cut the foe with thunderous crash;
They fell like mountains ‘neath the lightning’s flash.
Ranks collapsed on ranks where’er it struck,
Now this way, that way, dashing through the air.
‘Where has it gone?’ ‘Which warrior did it pluck?’
The cries came: ‘It is here!’ No, it is there!’
The archers could not find the way to go.
If heads were severed, bodes did not know.
Ah, how they feared the Lion of Creation!
The stream of the Euphrates turned to bile.
Their cruel hearts were racked with consternation;
They could not run, nor could they stay awhile.
‘Run!’, came the cry, ‘before it is too late.
The river of God’s wrath was in full spate.
The Warrior King struck panic in his foe,
And turmoil broke beneath the ancient sky.
The bowstrings looked for refuge in the bow;
For help the bow to arrow-heads made cry.
The ruthless sword drove on, and everywhere
The enemy sought a respite from its glare.
From twanging bowstrings arrows sped like rain;
Hurtling from the Syrian cloud they poured.
The piebald horses, chestnut steeds in pain
Whinnied as the sweltering hot winds roared.
The hatred of the desert was on fire;
Hussein alone withstood its clamorous ire.
The prowess of the Lord against his foes!
With sunlight on his swarthy face he strode.
His dry cracked lips were petals of the rose;
Like Ali borne by Zuljanah he rode.
Came clamour from the battle, fierce and harsh:
‘Run off! An angry lion stalks the marsh!’
‘Hussein! Make haste to save us!’, came the cry.
‘Hussein contests the banks: the swamp he takes.
Hussein fights with the wrath God’s spirit wakes!
The world is his, in him God’s spirit wakes!
Hussein saved Noah from the dreadful flood.
May we be saved by Ali Akbar’s blood!’
The name of Ali Akbar reached his ears;
His heart was pierced; he pulled his horse’s rein.
And as he stopped, his eyes were filled with tears;
He addressed the spot where his dead son had lain:
‘Life of my soul! They call you from afar.
The battle ends; I lay down Zulfiqar.’
The peaks of Qaf sped from the fairies’ sight;
The Jinn were lost; the lions strayed from the home;
The denizens of the deep dashed to the light;
The hawk and partridge fled where Pythons roam.
The mountains huddled, hiding, from the roar,
And eagles fell from eeries where they soar.
A voice came from the sky: ‘All hail, Shabbir!
This sword was made for him. Shabbir, all hail!
All hail! To him was battle’s honor dear.
Nursed at his mother’s breast, how can he fail?
God gave him mastery o’er all creation.
For he alone could fight to save his nation.
‘But now enough! No more, Hussein! No more!
‘Tis time to rest. The horse pants from the heat.
The time for prayer draws nigh. The battle’s roar
Is over now for thee. No more! Retreat!
No one can fight thus, thirsty in the throng.
Attend to thy dear kin, and soothe their wrong.’
Sheathing his sword, the King cried: ‘I obey!’
The day of Judgment came upon the world.
The enemy stood like animals at bay.
Their arrows fixed, their standard’s flag unfurled.
Hussein stood helpless. See and you will know
Your helpless Lord alone before his foe!
Ten thousand arrows dashed upon his chest;
A hundred at one time sought out their prey.
The spears transfixed his side and pierced his breast;
Ten stuck for every four he pulled away.
The shadow of the Lord was filled with spines,
Like needles in the backs of porcupines.
From all directions arrows poured like rain;
Assassins rushed with spears and daggers bared.
Such pain befell Hussein. Such pain! Such pain!
The one who on the Prophet’s lap was reared.
No one to pluck the arrows from his chest.
No one to lift him to his place of rest.
Those who had fled from battle now returned;
One took a stone and aimed it at his head.
The blow struck home; his fevered forehead burned;
Then to his throat a three-pronged arrow sped.
He touched his forehead, clasped his throat and sighed.
The arrow flew out from the other side.
This arrow had three heads, so it is told;
It pierced the Lord, not stopping in its track.
His breathing stopped; his eyes wide open rolled;
He tried to pull the shaft out from his back.
His final breath emerged-an angry flood-,
The palm placed on his wound was filled with blood.
Hussein falls from his mount-calamity!
His holy foot falls from the horse’s girth.
His side is gaping open-misery!
He swoons; his turban drops upon the earth.
The Quran has fallen headlong from its stand.
The Ka’aba’s walls have crumbled into sand.
Far from the wastes came Fatima’s pure voice:
‘Muhammad [sas]! See our family despoiled!
Now who will save our friendship and rejoice?
Against what tyranny our Leader toiled!
Full nineteen-hundred wounds were on him thrust;
Ah Zainab! Come! Hussein writhes in the dust.’
Her head uncovered, Ali’s daughter walked
To the place where Ali’s darling son was slain.
She ran, though by the evil enemy balked,
And reached the spot, clutching her breast in pain.
Ignoring every danger, she drew near,
And saw her brother’s head stuck on a spear.
‘Thy sister greets thee, brother. Answer me!
Hear the cry of Haidar’s daughter’s strife.
With thy dry tongue give answer! Hear my plea!
Should Zainab cling to this accursed life?
For Death alone can end this separation.
No one is left to give me consolation.
‘My brother, can I bring thee back once more?
What can I do? Where can I tell my woes?
To whom can I recount the pain I bore?
Our city is now ruled by evil foes.
The world has been destroyed beyond belief.
How can I live within this house of grief?
‘Why did this wretched waif not die before?
Come tell me how the dagger ripped thy breast?’
A voice cried: ‘Do not ask the pains I bore!
For all that came to pass was for the best.
Now from all tribulations I am free,
But ah! The wound to be apart from thee!’
Enough, Anis! Your very limbs are quaking.
Such verses written while your hands were shaking.
Filed under: February Volume I- 2009, Magazine/ Culture, Poetry | Tags: Inauguration, obama
By Afifa Begum
Islamic Post Staff Writer
For the bodies like apple orchards, on trees did they sway some even remaining until they rotted away
May they be allowed to attend this inaugural day.
For the bodies tossed into the Atlantic Ocean
To life under the sea as human feed
On this day in the parades and in front may they lead.
Separated from their country, their culture, their names unknown they had to become John, Jones, June and James
This day they are seated on the inaugural throne.
Men, women and children by the millions they were transported and journeyed only to be harnessed like animals –their skins branded with masters’ initials burning
Clerics, architects, scholars and nobles from all walks of life on a voyage to unknown shores; years of appealing on vaulted doors.
On this day their presence carpets the white house floors.
Their blood flowing bodies have fertilized our American soils; for centuries our fields they did till and toil; may they be recompensed this day for their unforgettable turmoil….
President Barack Hussein Obama
All races, religions and continents lie within you
As do the martyrs looking on from their “sacred view”
This day they arrive to commemorate with you.
On January twentieth, two thousand and nine
The Constitution and Declaration of Independence
Was finally for all fulfilled on Capitol Hill
For millions to see you had fulfilled God’s will.
Like the Seal of the Prophets and ancestors –an orphan you became
By the removal of parents –the universe did you gain
Are your legacies one and the same: to return the lost
Flock back to one God again?
‘Tis a well known fact the martyrs never die or retire
At “high noon” descend in their traditional martyrs attire
As president Barack Hussein Obama raised one hand towards the heavens and the other facing the earth, all and everything bore witness to this oath throughout the universe.
President Obama galvanized different races, religions and creeds within 24 hours. On that day four million attendees converged on the mall and 1 1/2 million framed the outside of the mall. At the final event, all faiths were represented and allowed to offer a prayer at the national prayer service.
Filed under: February Volume I- 2009, Magazine/ Culture, Poetry | Tags: Gaza
By Ahmad Qadri
Islamic Post Staff Writer
O people of the world
wherever you may be.
If in God you do believe.
Let’s come together in solidarity to end the atrocities.
Listen, Oppressors of the World.
Keep this in mind.
God is never on your side…
In Palestine hundreds of children die. Why?
Tell me what is the infant’s Crime?
Where are her weapons?
Where are her Guns?
How could she run from a Bomb of two tons?
Hundreds of men, women and Children
blown into hundreds of little pieces.
Do you hear them crying? Do you see them Bleeding?
Those babies are not sleeping; don’t you see they’re not breathing!
O Israel many children died in the holocaust this is true,
Many innocent Palestinian children are dying too…
We ask you, ‘What Would Anne Frank Do?’
O Palestine, when you cry, the world cries.
When you bleed, the world bleeds!
We are all truly one body.
Hundreds of children are dying.
Tell me, what is the infant’s crime?
Where are her weapons?
Where are her Guns?
How can she run from a bomb of two tons?
Stop what is for a democracy a shame.
You cannot murder thousands of innocent people
to justify the killing of one extremist.
The world is watching this,
they’re calling it ridiculous.
O people of the world!
We lament a loss of Peace we may never again see,
As long as the blood of the Innocent,
is used to fertilize the Holy lands of the olive tree.
O people of the world!
The laws of the Geneva Convention are being brought to extinction.
Human rights have been shredded and Universal Declarations.
Completely discarded are the UN Charters.
And blown up was the United Nations Building in Gaza.
Then phosphorous on civilians. Phosphorous! On children?
O Christians! O Muslims! O people of the Ten Commandments.
O people of the world! Congratulate your conscience,
with protests you shared the feeling of seeing your children shot, bleeding and dying
O Israel! How many more innocent ones must die before you realize?
O Oppressor, God is never on your side.
What is the infant’s crime?
She’s bleeding to death.
She blew out her last breath, in her mother’s arms.
Tears run like rain, with intense pain from her mother’s eyes,
to mix with her babies blood.
Tell us, O Israel what has this child done?
Is it because she was born a PALESTINIAN?
Where are her weapons?
Where are her guns?
How can she run?
Filed under: December Volume 1 - 2008, Magazine/ Culture, Poetry | Tags: Books, poetry
From the upcoming title being published by Zavia Books:
Pir: Pearls from the Ocean of His Secrets
By Ahmad Qadri
Islamic Post Contributing Writer
Ihave been to your tavern.
Oh, I thank you for the wine.
One sip of your secret elixir and my animal self began to die.
In ecstasy, I found myself chanting Allah’s Holy Name:
Allah-Hu, Allah-Hu, Allah-Hu, again, again and again.
I lost myself in your tavern,
where your brand of wine has gained much fame.
Travelers come from far and wide to drink.
Yes, jinn, man, and malaaikah (angels) come to quench to their thirst.
Drinking the wine of Love like pilgrims drink
from Zam Zam, their stomach about to burst.
I sat as listener to the dhikr.
As the intoxicated tavern keeper began to sing;
sakinah (peace) fell upon us all,
as the malaaikah began to spread their wings!
The keeper in Love’s ecstasy started to cry,
as he began to describe:
“With this wine of ishq
your spirit will fly!”
“Believe me” he said confidently,
“I do it all the time!
I have flown the fourteen valleys.
I have known hardships, test and trial.
“This atom you call the universe
is truly not worth your while.
“Only to roam inside your soul
is where you will find true gold.”
Dig fast and deep,
before you grow too old!
Outside my tavern is the life of this world,
the jahil’s (ignoramus’) amusements,
the bakhil’s (miser’s) delusion,
a place of endless doubts and confusion.
“Have another cup with me,
if you have the capacity!”
Why do you wait? Life is short.
For this you can make haste.
Drink to your fill.
This wine of love makes none ill.
In fact, you will become one
with t he One’s will.
“What was a secret shall become known!
Why, my dear friends…
Shall I tell where I have flown?!”
One drunkard in the tavern said,
in a soft intoxicated moan…
“I have seen the white hawk flying high and alone, circumambulating the throne.”
*This poem was written in the Zavia of El Sheikh Mubarik Ali Shah Gilani, Hashmi, in the Himalayan Mountains after El Sheikh delivered a discourse in which was said:
“The sheikh is the tavern keeper.
The Zavia is the tavern. Love is the wine.”