An ode to Turkey and Syria
On a frosty Monday morning, the Third of this February,
An earthquake swept through lands, the worst in all our memory.
It came for sleeping towns, rattling them alive,
Unleashing in it’s furore, a fight to just survive.
Wreaking havoc in its stride, it was followed by three more,
Each one aiming for blood, angrier than before.
Strong and mighty towers, like blocks they all collapsed,
Taking with them all those, who had only then relaxed.
Headlines flashed through screens, of the sad, befallen state,
Each still trying to track, a mounting casualty rate.
The Syrians woed hypocrisy, while Turkey called for aid.
Though both were only struggling to secure what had remained.
For weeks after that, such humbling sights we saw,
As stories from ruins emerged, the world watched in awe.
From between that rubble, we witnessed what we call Fate.
Each soul handpicked, to each its promised date.
Despite, the days without food and with no means to survive,
Even those presumed dead, were crawling out alive.
Down beneath the wreckage, a mother who had given birth,
She was chosen for His heaven and the child to remain on earth.
In the midst of that disaster, not one of them we saw,
Questioning His mercy and straying from His law.
With only the sky as their shelter, and their faith to keep them warm,
They still bow in obedience, in the Salah* that they perform.
While I watched these legends, I could not help but wonder,
Who would I then be, if the earth should split asunder?
Will my faith survive, a fall from twenty stories?
Or will I remain the one lamenting my miseries?
Is my haya a conviction, or is it a mere accessory?
Will it adorn me in a disaster or will I call it unnecessary?
Will mine be the womb, that births children who mourn Salahs*,
Or will it birth the ones, who hold back from their Zakahs*?
Were I to lose my loved ones, and then be putting them to rest,
Will I still not stop saying, that Allah is the Greatest?
And were I but to die, will my soul return, pleasing and well pleased?
Or will it be the unfortunate that screams to be released?
Will my people be the ones, that flock together to aid?
Or will we be the people that flee to where there’s shade?
Will we spend weeks in service? Or will we frolic in our gains?
Are we really the people, that feels the Ummah’s* pains?
A mighty lesson they’ve taught us, Turkey and Syria too.
Reminding us all again, of the one thing we always knew.
That the world is but a rubble in an imminent collapse.
Worthless than a fly, or the wings that it flaps.
That our deeds will soon be called in the Court of the Most Just.
That in His Hands remain our lives and it is in Him we place our trust.
That the lives that we are given, in its each precious breath,
Everyday we stand only moments away from death.
-Zainab Aliyah
Glossary:
*The Muslim prayer
*The Five Muslim prayers
*Compulsory Muslim charity
*The Muslim brotherhood