Posts tagged “ancient

this hijāb

Posted on September 24, 2016

Maryam. Aasiyah. Khadija. Fatima. Zaynab. This is your legacy. They will try to make you forget this. Do not forget this. The purity of Islam has been preserved through this line of intellectual leaders. Social reformers. Spiritual masters. Woman warriors – and their shield, this Hijāb. They will try to make you forget this. Do not forget this. To the world, it may seem like just a cloth. And this is what those seeking to weaken its power would have you believe. But to the guardians of its secrets, the preservers of its message, the ones who have uncovered its knowledge… it is starlight. it is magic. it is the taste of flight. This Hijāb is revolution incarnate. It is not a mere thing, to be neatly…

fragrance of the found

Posted on July 16, 2013

“O God, what did find who lost you? And what did he lose who found you?” -Hussain ibn Ali (a)   I’ve heard whispered tales of a flower in a slumbering wood Whose tears did fall when the world’s weight it understood Drowning in the haze of fairytales, countless once upon a times Of knights bright in shining armor, women with beauty refined   Too weakened by shadows, roots shaken by each passerby So it learned to prick hands that either crushed, or at its beauty did sigh Its strength tested, soon took its bent stem as a sign of defeat Was told once its petals would fall, would turn man into beast   Lost and confused, turned for answers to a wise, olden…

guardians of the green

Posted on July 12, 2013

I lay beneath the cover of trees, the day warm against my skin…watching glimpses of sunlight make their way across the leaves, flecks striking branches as they dance together, swaying in the breeze. My hand finds a root splayed tenderly beneath my arm, and I’m struck suddenly with the strangeness of it all. That these holders of secrets, silent, ancient, should stand gazing upon the years—upon us—soldiers, perpetually on their watch. Towering figures forced to contemplate the whims of men, to watch as children feign themselves warriors and chase shadows in the dark. How they must laugh at the king’s strut which fumbles when meeting a risen root, a tower so easily toppled… Gladiators, who find themselves prisoners of men who see bark only…