Fancy brings a group to sight

Carrying a coffin in the mid of night.

Whose coffin is this?

It is Zahra’s, the Prophets only daughter,

She willed to be buried in the night’s cover,

Ah! Alas! How soon changed the course!

They awaited the Prophet to die and with him his force.

Till yesterday they were in the guise of Islam;

Today they retreated to the back in nimble calm.

With rowdies came the people of Saqifa,

To set fire the House of Fatema,

The House where Angels descended

Now flames from it to the sky ascended.

”‌So what?”‌ Said one of them

Who in this job was at the helm?

When he was told Zahra was behind;

But he had gone deaf and blind.

Enraged only revenge to find,

He battered down the door by force

And Zahra got pressed to the wall at the same force.

She miscarried and in pain said:

O Fizza my maid; rush to my aid.

She never recovered from the injury

Nor was she relieved of the fury.

Thus martyrdom such entailed.

Shows who TRUE and who in Faith FAILED,

Her years were still in bloom

Not ripe to doom.

Who is the poet? All to see will long

When I rise from grave humming your song

Your intercession with God all of us long.