The Earth starts spinning in reverse, it’s as if time has heard
But the tragedy of Fatima still hurts when told backward
I see the moon inch back to Earth, and the stars are moving clockwise
I see shooting stars returning, everything grows young in this world
I see a door burning alight, the door where revelation ascends
I see Ali being dragged back toward the house… he’s captured
I watch men on the floor, they’re thrown up and land in Ali’s hands
It’s as if he imploded and dragged their bodies inward
I see a tyrant on the floor, and Ali grabs his collar
He pulls him up by his neck, angered, like the Lord is angered
The men drag him back inside and pull his children to his side
Their tears roll up into their eyes, their eyes soften… less flustered
Ali is dragged back to his prayer mat, turned so his face with God is met
His hands by his side and he’s lost in prayer, as if only God mattered
There are strange men in the house, but they edge back toward the doors
But I feel my heart break as there’s one door they move toward
And there I see an unbreakable woman, broken on the floor
Her black gown red with her blood, holding her rib as if it’s fractured
Muhammad’s daughter by the door turns holding her womb in pain
An unspeakable tragedy narrated in spoken word
I see a young child’s soul return toward the purest womb
And wonder just how an unborn from this world departed
The men run backwards to the door, but one turns toward her
And I watch his foot meet with her womb, her unborn son un-martyred
He runs backwards to the door, the Lady of Light seems to bleed no more
Zahra staggers to her feet, back against the wall, her rib shattered
The door was half-way open, half weighed by air, half weighed by force
I see the door swing back and behind it I see Fatima is crushed
He’s crushed the wife of Khaybar’s door’s crusher behind that wooden door
From the voice of a walking Quran the words “Fitha Ya” can be heard
The door is against her, he’s behind it, crushing her against the wall
I watch saliva flow up his chin, into his mouth it is pulled
A nail has stabbed her side, it’s inside her side, her insides torn
A thorn in a rose that even soil to disappoint is scared
He pulls the door back and Fatima Zahra is pulled with it
The nail pulls out of her side and her rib is un-fractured
The door is slammed shut and she’s thrown with it, stood behind it, defiant
To the fire from which it came, smoke is pulled back, toward the door and downward
Fire retracts unnaturally, like a man becoming a baby
It runs back to his flaming torch, its rage calmed as it calmly flickered
Fatima stands defiant, and I hear him cry out, “what so!”
More words sound like gibberish, but “inside is Fatima but”, I hear those words
I hear banging on the door but it sounds obscure, like its played backwards
Something terrible is about to happen, Heavens have shuddered
All that shouting, it becomes silence… Fatima moves towards the den
Ali’s hands move to his ears – “Huakbar Allah” are his exact words
Zahra’s hands are in duaa, I can’t perceive the language she’s speaking
She lowers her hands, but I know, that before she raised them it was answered
She looks to Ali… she looks to her children… I watch night flip into day
She doesn’t look at me, but she knows that I’m there… I lower my head
I can’t make sense of time anymore… I ask her what she prayed for
“My child”, she says, “I prayed for time to move forward.”
* * *
(London – 10/01/18)