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The resource of hope is perhaps the greatest resource there is. To go beyond what everything has brought you now, and to look to tomorrow, when the dawn breaks; it is to see a potential new richness that will overcome all of yesterday.
R.K
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#ourstoryisone#bahai persecution#bahaifaith#martyrs#spirit#resilience#mighty#religion#women life freedom
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The Lioness’ Of Shiraz
“I will not.”
One after another the moving melody of the women’s words was made
Sweeter like honey on their lips.
When like peals rending asunder authority they routinely refused
To give in for the nightingale’s destiny is to reach the Rose.
“I will not.”
At every sigh or tear, their inner mirth led to the Gate of Love and They entered;
And to the Blessed Spot and Valley they journeyed.
“I will not.”
For the will was not theirs, and they knew
For their words were a fire created in darkness by His Hand.
“I will not.”
Such was the litany of answers like they were one body, breathing
In the Word of God to gain a devoted sustenance.
“I will not.”
And they smiled for every morn the obligatory prayer was recited;
Each utterance, how great the quake in their hearts,
How great the immersion that one can see the faces of union.
“I will not.”
It was their stage to command. No theatrics of lies, no remark,
And curse, and no act turned them to turmoil
For there was naught but His Presence and Words.
“I will not.”
They must have thought of Tahirih, the solace of their eyes.
And Anis, the friend, Quddus, the letter, Badi, the bearer,
And the Martyrs afore.
Let their strength before the dawn be ours they said and it was.
“I will not.”
Holding each other’s hand, the feast of joy commenced,
And the éclat of true wealth and with it true poverty was invoked.
The Trumpet Blast sounded off— the look in their eyes,
And in the women’s hearts, precious and free,
The bird seeing out from the cage.
“I will not.”
Martyrdom, that declaration, to kiss its robe! To wear the beauty upon their skin! They chanted to its praise and its starry light,
And looked upon it, smiling in that silent moment where self was no more;
When the spirit ascends, witnessing the Threshold of His Abode,
Keeping hold the ecstasy of the reverie of the next world.
The silent contentment; of things made new; of principals that were their Glory;
The children they educated; the embracing of virtues as though time were limited; And mirroring the love of the thought of the
Final embarkation towards the Plains of the Beloved.
“I will not recant.”
#ourstoryisone#bahai persecution#Bahai Faith#martrys#spirituality#religion#women life freedom#poetry#poem
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Eternal Is Fate’s Love
Youthful lovers! abide by the hand of fate
Wherein the nest of eternal love awaits.
Few know the verity of this rapture
In the heart; and nothing can fissure
The cause of the love that is the make
Of divine semblance and it courses great;
It winds and meanders like Eden’s river
Towards the Oceans wherein pearls do tether
To embrace and adorn the youthful lover’s necks.
Eternal ripeness abounds as no sliver and speck
Of vacillation is there but to create
On their fingers two rings of Fate.
Timeless is the sheen of amber gold,
A glimmer that makes the flowers unfold.
They haste as souls to forsake the world and wed,
To be as one, to elate in love as their daily bread.
So strong the union that even as one who is dead,
in separation, their hearts from immemorial is sewn by thread.
#poem#poems#poems on tumblr#poet#poets#poets on tumblr#poetry#writing#writing community#writers on tumblr#poetry collection
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It was just whispers, nothing more. What a tearful acquaintance Love can bring for some things remain folded, placed in the shadow forever, deprived of the suns glaze
R.K
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It seems ignorance is a muscle that has been flexed for the time being. And those whom fight against such ignorance and maintain to educate others, hope to make the muscle move eccentrically, away from the concentric force, which amplifies the structure and fabric of ignorance itself.
R.K
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What repose there is in music and writing. In combination, the feeling multiplies when the writing is assured by the embrace of music.
R.K
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The thought of being a distant memory, neither legend nor hero who never defies the tide of swords is nothing but a vain living standard you have set yourself to become. Thoughts are strong that it may become true. Therefore, think of it as remotely impossible that you will not leave a legacy. Demand instead a victory that compels you to greatness, what compels and strikes at your passions.
R.K
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The Patron Will Commit Regardless.
The open-minded patron of knowledge is not deterred from learning though the quest for more knowledge shines on the accumulated ignorance of knowing less. That, in the paradox of knowledge gaining, there is a subtraction attributed to the patron’s cause. But the patron procures in themselves an appreciation—even if they are deemed limited in the aftermath of discoveries—and is thus motivated to continue their trek into the unknown.
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Why dance to misery? The tune of hopefulness is there, in your line of vision. You must look to your side, then above and below you. Bring it to you in strides and the totality of hopefulness, day by day, will fill your heart and your spirit and you will fly into a paradise you thought you would never find.
R.K
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We have learned early in life to hold on dearly. But as wisdom is built in us, we’d much rather let go of things. Life doesn’t become empty as a result. It just becomes a little detached and there is always a goodness in that.
R.K
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Zan Zendegi Azadi
Lionesses,
Nothing less.
The fierceness so intense,
The flame of women the IRI cannot suppress
Burning veils, a new Iran will be blessed.
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Solace of My Eyes (Tahirih)
Thoroughly beautiful in mind, she envisioned, Oh Qurratu’l’Ayn
Saw the effulgence of His face, a visage that could not be contained.
Arduous steps she set forth to spread His Faith
With a courage so steeped by a hundred swords, it would not fade.
The promised Qaim has come, and this is the wondrous day
The only women in the circle of Hurrif ‘I’ Hay.
A single banner was raised in the conference of Badahst
Breaking the fetters of inequality asunder falling in waters of past.
Taking your veil off, bold, something to behold, a potent notion
Declaring the emancipation of women, the impulse was set in motion.
Fixed eyes gazed hesitantly upon your uncovered face
While the veil lay motionless, rendered useless in its place.
Fixed eyes, most appalled had their irises filled with unchaste darkness.
The act wrote lines in the crest of mankind’s heart, Oh young poetess.
On the worlds stage you commanded attention for the long streaming tears of your sex
The many faces unaware to orders established for your peers unable to contest.
But women shared in spirit, forming rivulets on their long forgotten countenances.
Happiness overwhelmed them from their representative who announces:
“This day is the day of festivity and universal rejoicing… Let those who have shared in this great achievement arise and embrace each other.”
From flames and ashes, Tahirih was newly bestowed upon your life as your name.
How fitting as you walked among earth unspoiled, thus it is forever your claim.
You soared unabashed through tumultuous winds and landed with conviction on fertile ground
Knowing that the hands of persecution with untamed palms will abound.
Countless times they asked for you to recant because they could not see the Truth.
Instead, you fearlessly voiced nothing else to naysayers, but to ears undeniable religious proofs.
They tried to quiet you, but silence had never taken ahold of your seamless narrative
As you fastened your approach on life’s beauty as a prerogative.
The dictating system tried to stamp out the unerring illuminating light of a women’s heart
But your unfailing vocation of Love and Justice for Persia withstood and never tore apart.
Ere you left this country of hidden beauties, the veils were set afire
Not so long you prophesied to meet your Creator as you dressed in connubial attire.
You entered the viridescent gardens content, uttering neither weep nor mirth
Walking through the grass you felt the coldness of this unkind earth.
Feverish and foolish they grabbed your garment with an unrestrained authority
And sought to extinguish the Voice, but with a last breath you spoke with such fluency.
“You can kill me as soon as you like, but you cannot stop the emancipation of women.”
Woe betide the blind and ignorant who hardly saw what they had done
To dismiss her regal self and be impudent to He who is the Sun.
What has been acknowledged from the first step to your last breath
Was that the soul celestial endures after embracing an early death.
Now upon the soil of east and then to the west, you fortified a spiritual Charter
Remembered as a woman who fought for all and chose to be a Martyr.
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Descend Like Waterfalls
The strands of beauteous hair descend like waterfalls. Yet, strange that nature made to reflect the day light must be hidden by the veil. Closed off to the world of nature like a leper, contagious and a sight to close your eyes from. What strangeness, what madness is this? A venom to the eyes of polluted men and “morale” police? Each strand stings them, beats them, and makes them weak. What men are they to act in this way and willfully condemn Gods creation?
What irony is this to be killed by the hands of “virtue”? Nay, in the eyes of God, it is the hands of indefatigable repression and indignity. True Persian people, young and old whose native land has been stripped of its nobility will claim a destiny that is theirs. By your sacrifice, Mahsa Amini and countless others and the light of your hair that was touched by the Sun, the days of Persia will be reclaimed, and waterfalls will descend again...
Descend like waterfalls
Descend like waterfalls
Descend like waterfalls
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