An Ode To Zaynab

XFactor by Professor A.L.I.VERSE 1:

There will never be another, like Aun’s mother/Her spirit hovers, above me, I shudder/Hundred thousand horses, sound like thunder/I look upward, beyond the destruction/She instructs us, on how they all suffered/And describes violent deeds of throat cutters/Devils, who dared, decapitate her brother/And descended upon tents, like buzzards/To increase plunder, ripped earrings from his youngest/Daughter then left them with their heads uncovered/The same devils, killed her two innocent youngsters/And left survivors burnt, with thirst and hunger/Who stripped martyrs, stole rings and turbans/For spiritual relics, all while serving the serpent/Beyond discomfort, product of ancient grudges/A righteous house besieged, by stubborn usurpers/Satan’s servants in service to his devilish purpose,/She emerges from tents aflame, as devils disperse/They return, put her in chains, she recites verses/She spoke with eloquence, of the universes/just like her mother, with God she conversed,/It’s why Kufa stays cursed, her blood in its dirt/Her power usurped, their days numbered, stayed under/Their covers, but couldn’t escape from God’s justice


She was mercy for the lion born in the House of God/Where was her mercy, why was life so hard?/They stole her scarves, Wrists with scars/Chained to Karavan, to Damascus marched/Survivors starved, Yazeed thought he was smart/Yet she’s so sharp, she spoke and sparked their hearts/He was outsmarted, by the daughter of a martyr/The mother of slaughter, the daughter of the prophet/The leader of hardship, an inspiration for artists/A role model for people who become innocent targets/The saddest night, she stood staring into the darkness/With progeny of the Prophet, that she guarded/And heard the horse rider, spoke with her father/Told him about the harshness, violence, Abbas’ arms/How throats were parched, how blades were sharp/How they took young Qasim and he’s torn apart/How, Akbar was stabbed in the back with a shard/How her sons, Aun and Muhammad’s, eyes went dark/How they killed her infant nephew, Ali Asghar/And how they slain her brother Husayn at Karbala/She was a matriarch who challenged the upstart/For speaking out, (Husayn!) Zaynab would be marked/Yazeed threw her in a dungeon with rusty bars/But Zaynab still shines, Fatima’s Avatar

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