Cries

With strands of black my body is covered,

With anguish and sorrow my self, cloaked,

Now my only state is that of grief,

My only language is of tears, with it I speak,

Listen to the cries, the ones beyond existence,

Listen to the story of one man’s resistance.

Travel with me into the arms of my mother,

In my infancy when I cried like any other,

She whispered to me "Hush little baby"

You're like no other, you, my child are Hussaini.

Read more...

Cuts Deep

New short story is FINALLY up :) It is a story of... well I'll just let you read it for yourself (I promise this isn't a way to get you to read it... not entirely)
SPECIAL THANKS TO SAYYEDA DHARSEE for helping me learn how to spell and punctuate.

Dancing embers rock with the relentless winds. The sounds of crickets and crackling of burning wood surround me. A slight chill runs through my spine, both pleasing and uncomfortable at the same time, and while I wonder how the two coexist, I clench my fists straining the sleeves of my hoodie; a slight pinch from the faint wound that taunts my wrist distracts me. I watch the bonfire in its entire gold and blue fury cutting through the darkness of the night, opening up my soul for me to witness…

My eyes strain in a failed attempt to open, I really couldn’t be bothered, there’s only one more... Go on then!

Peace and Prayers,

Kulsum x

Shikayaat

The heart synchronizes with sobs I don't control,

It aches and yearns as if it were not whole,

Oh heart! Why do you break every time you hear his name?

Why does the healer of wounds, to break my heart, aim?

I see the sun and the clouds in the sky,

I recall a child with nothing but a hope filled cry,

Go on reading...

I Sing Husayn!

In light of the first of Muharram I thought I'd delay putting up my short story and instead write something to do with Muharram. These following few days are extremely holy and I hope that if this poem does touch you in the slightest bit, that you would spare me a prayer inshAllah. 

Black face, Stained heart,

I come to you torn apart,

Buried in sin, the weight of my wrong,

I am released from, when I sing your song,

So I sing Husayn, Husayn, Husayn, Husayn,

I sing to that tune when I hear how you were slain.

My soul I have hurt, my self... Continue

Peace and Prayers,

Kulsum x

I'm Back, Like it or Leave it :)

Salam,
Heyya!

As some of my followers might have noticed, I have kinda gone AWOL in the past few (I use that term loosely) months. This is obviously true from my lack of posts and what not. And while I don't necessarily need to justify that, I do WANT to.

I started writing as a hobby, something I did for friends and sisters when they had am assignment due that they couldn't or wouldn't do (yes, I was a pushover like that, sue me). That changed along the way. It became something I was proud of even though my audience was minuscule and sometimes nonexistent. Eventually, I became the target of  a few critics who didn't love what I do. One critique led to another and I didn't enjoy writing anymore, It became about proving myself, which in turn got extremely exhausting. So why am I telling you all this? whats the point of me putting my inability, at that time, to handle that form of rejection, out there?

I recently befriended a couple of people who were a lot like me, socially err... weird (?!), and as I got to know them they, in their own time, told me of the things they had given up because people didn't approve, and all I remember from that conversation was "Wow! How sad!". I don't want to be that.

So back to the question... Why am I telling YOU this? Well its not to be a sob story or to seem like an insecure little girl, rather it is to tell you that if you enjoy doing something, don't toss it aside because people say you should, or will. I refuse to do so and so should you!

Now that I got that out of the way, I don't know if this is good news or not but those of you who can bare my writing, expect a short story soon!
This time I look forward to the comments, good or bad. Bring it, I've got my thick skin on and I am ready to take it all in and grow from it all.

Now that I have said almost every cliche thing I possibly could...

Peace and Prayers,
Kulsum x

Man Dhanmbu Tifli

The roughness of the brown bark of a tree,

My tongue clones to the touch,

To any, anguish it would be,

Thirsts choke, its tight clutch,

Then my father, to set me free,

Joined me to the enemy, to plea,

That is when He cried out

 “man dhanmbu tifli”

I lay on the hands of the appointee,

As he my father rests his case,

....Continue Reading

A Dove Struck

This is a piece I wrote tonight on the night that Imam Ali was struck....

Grief, so heavy, dwells in the air,

As if a cloak of sadness it too wears,

It is as though every gush is not a breeze,

Instead, it is sorrow, gushing with such ease,

For in this night there is no trouble,

To break hearts down, into nothing but rubble.

Black, so empty, yet comes with nothing but eyes full,

Regardless of it being cotton, silk, or even wool,

The lovers of Ali tonight are drenched in tears... Continue

The Government of the Heart

I seem to be lost and alone,
I stand here all on my own,
True guidance, a concept I haven't known,
The right a light for me hasn't shown,
And on these days I weep and mourn,
Yet hope in me is firmly sown,
So AlAjal AlAjal I weep and I moan....

Continue reading

My Identity

As the martydom of Sayeda Zainab is upon us, I realised...

"Through Zainab I learned how to hold my dignity, Through Zainab I learned the worth of my Identity"  

One Dominating Name

A poem written about Imam Ali. It is basically place on my mind as a world of its own.
Leave your comments and/or suggestions :)

As the sun sets and as it resigns to another domain,

So do I, into the narrows of my mind where I do not reign,

In this world of mine there is only one dominating name,

The name of Ali on every, street, every corner, again and again.

I navigate through this world and its streets during rush hour,

I see there is written, on a billboard, on a never ending tower,

Go on reading...

The Effect of The Golden Dome

The thoughts that crossed my mind as I stood in front of the Holy Shrine of I.Ali, the nucleus of Najaf al Ashraf. I fear I cannot do it eve a fraction of justice but this is just a mere atom in the lovers of Ali bleeding her emotion into words...

A breeze brushes against my face, far from bleak,

A drop of water, trickles down my cheek,

A rhythm in my chest accelerates faster and faster, to its peak,

A breath struggles to leave, my lungs fall weak,

.... Continue

I Am Every Hopeless Nation

A dedication to all the oppressed, hurt and treated unjustly... Youare not forgotten.

When you see everything around you,

And what the world has now come to,

Does it not hurt or sting?

The struggle of your fellow beings.

In this time of injustices increase,

I am every lone beast.

I am every innocent prisoner, the ones who have no listener.

I am every torn and broken home,... Continue

I Call Him Mahdi

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A Crown Tall

Dedicated to: The most loving, caring, sacrificing and BEAUTIFUL  mother, My mother, Sabira Kermali.

Love you Mom. Distance is just miles, miles my love travels day and night. <3 

The gentle touch that calms a storm,

The strong cement that build a home,

The weight of this, words fail to confirm,

It is a power with the ability to transform,

Motherhoods embrace ever so warm.

The steady hands, the world they mold,

The steel exterior, but interior…pure gold,

The capacity of this...

Want to read more? Go ahead

Justice's Essence

In these times of tribulation, lonely souls cry to one soul who can free them.  Ya Mahdi Adrikna

The Mother of her Sons No More (Umm Al Banin)

A lioness lost her young,

A mother lost her sons,

“Mother of her sons no more”

Faatima said amidst ache and sorrow.

She wished for a sooner informer,

Of the news that absolutely tore her,

The fall of Abbas... more

The Tree of Abbas

A dedication to the mother of the warrior in Kerbala, Abbas.

What is womb which bore Abbas?

What is that chest that soothed Abbas?

What is that embrace that composed Abbas?

What is that heart, filled with, love of Abbas?

What is that grip that held his hands?

Those same hands... Read more

The Constant

A constant of Stares follow,

The look of covering the wide and narrow.

With every step, every room,

Every ride, looks of gloom,

As if they worry they will meet their doom.

A constant of judgments follow,

They think I cause sorrow.

Those loyal to me I only swear to protect,

Yet too many from me... more

Marks left

I walked on the streets,

It was the smell of holiness,

We walked with our bare feet,

To our master, his highness.

I knocked on his door,

Gaze fixed where he lay,

I touched ...continue reading

The Princess and The Wall

...Are you not the essence of humility?

Yet what was done to you…Inhumanity,

I ask for the strength of speech,

But your due, does no consolation reach.

Have you not given many a sacrifice?

Yet your Mohsin was killed, a door the device.

I wish to show my grief,

Limitation halts me from providing relief.

Are you not...

Want to continue