Zaynab’s face

I know a face which reflects an undying pain
The same face also reflects courage, strength and a mighty gain.
The face had witnessed her brothers, nephews and children slaughtered in cold blood
Yet when she was asked what do you see? She said’ I see nothing but the beauty of my beloved’

Her veil was removed, revealing her holy face
Yet that torture was not enough and she was made to parade in an ally of nasty gaze.
She kept weeping for her veil to be returned
But they returned nothing and hit her with chains instead.

I now sit and wonder, why are the women of my generation so lost?
They claim they are weak and strength can never be found at any cost.

I ask them look at Zaynab, the granddaughter of Muhammad
Had lost everything yet in her heart remained the faith of her beloved.

So now if you call yourself a woman and allow men to oppress your worth.
Then remember Zaynab, who without a sword brought back the Islam you and I both claim to be our enough.
For Zaynab and I worship the same God. If she finds beauty in her tragedy,
Then who am I to complain my life is unfair, yet her was a beauty.


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