Muharram the beginning but never the end
It’s the first day of the month, when a mother dresses her children in black, pakeezah (pure) attire, putting away all party outfits and bringing out modest, simple clothing.
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11 poems in the archive.
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Ali Akbar (a.s.)Ali Asghar (a.s.)Bibi Fatima (s.a.)Bibi Zainab (s.a.)GhadeerHazrat Abbas (a.s.)Imam Ali (a.s.)Imam Askari (a.s.)Imam Baqir (a.s.)Imam Hadi (a.s.)Imam Hassan (a.s.)Imam Hussain (a.s.)Imam Jawad (a.s.)Imam Kazim (a.s.)Imam Mahdi (a.t.f.s.)Imam Reza (a.s.)Imam Sadiq (a.s.)Imam Zainul Abideen (a.s.)KarbalaProphet Muhammad (pbuh)Qasim ibn Hassan (a.s.)
Insane in Husseyn
I don’t trust the world to still be there,
Ibn e Makkah o Mina
O who you don’t know me
Yours Again
If I were to die and be reborn into flesh,
The Caravan
The caravans of mystery boxes
Bayn Al Harmain
I stand between the sun and the moon
Fatimah
vast clusters
Muhammad & Hasan
What did we lose tonight?
What Becomes of Motherhood
This stinging, this jabbing
The Night’s Burial
When the wailing of the night has hushed
Quiet Cave
A daughter is a quiet cave