This Muharram, I remember her…

This Muharram, I remember her…

Zaynab, the daughter of Ali,

the echo of Fatimah,

the flame that did not flicker

even when the tents were burning.

She did not weep in defeat.

She wept as a witness.

She stood in the court of tyrants

not with fear,

but with fire.

And when asked what she saw that day,

what remained after Karbala,

she said:

“I saw nothing but beauty.”

So this month,

when my grief rises,

when the world feels heavy with injustice,

when loneliness settles on my skin—

I will think of her.

I will speak like her.

And I will remember:

Truth walks even when trembling.

Dignity survives even in chains.

And loyalty to Allah

is never lost.