Tuesday, 14 January 2014

هيهات منا الذلة

هيهات منا الذلة

I saw her scattered all over the sidewalk….
Hijab askew.
White before, now of a red hue.
‘Haithaath minna dhilla’, escaped her lips
Before she closed her eyes,
And slept in bliss.

I see a child crouched a little further….
Head buried in her hands,
Longing for her mother
Who died fighting for her honour
‘Haihaath minna dhilla’, she hears the chant and feels the power.

I see the old man,
His white beard soaked in blood,
Protecting his kin,
His clothes torn, his mind worn,
‘Haihaath minna dhilla’ - to himself he has sworn

I see the youth,
Some still fighting,
Retaliating an oppression,
Refusing to live in disgrace and depression,
They wake up every morning,
Shedding their blanket of dreams of freedom,
Stopping to take a breath - seldom,
‘Haihaath minna dhilla’running through their blood,
Never to give in,
Minds made up.

I see me
Painting their troubles,
Painting their pain,
Telling their tales,
‘Haihath minna dhilla’, running through my veins. 

-Ambereena Razvi