The Tears Didn't Stop...

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I thought about Yawm ul Qiyaamah, and the tears began to fall,

I thought about the terrible Reckoning, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about the rape of the Ummah, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about how we had failed to fulfill the obligations central to this Deen of Allah, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about how we slept at night, while they were butchered, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about the Mujahid, tortured to death for attempting to escape Kufr captivity, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about the hundreds and thousands of Mujahideen in torturous captivity, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about those of my sincere Brothers, who had to stay behind patiently, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about limbless orphans, the worst victims of war, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about the baby girl who had been dehumanised while we watched, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about young Mujahid boys competing to be allowed into training camps, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about how we cried tears while they fought till the last drop of blood, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about how I would manage on the bridge of Siraat on Qiyaamah, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about wanting my Sons to be born Soldiers Of Allah, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about the Mujahids who waited patiently for Firdous, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about those who were Shaheed in merely attempting to reach the battlefield, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about what atrocities it would take to get my Brothers to Jihad, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about how our Fathers and Brothers of the Ummah had failed to protect us, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about the man, who had answered the lone cry of one girl in Afghanistaan, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about him who smiled upon being martyred with his index finger raised, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about Muslims engaging in vain rhetoric about the need for Jihad, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about those who had never had the dust of the battlefield enter their nostrils, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about what excuses such 'Brothers' would shamelessly offer on Qiyaamah, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about my desire to see the beautiful and Noble face of the beloved Rasoolallah (SAW), and yet the tears didn't stop.

I thought about Jahannam and burning fires of hell we were to be fuel for, and yet the tears didn't stop.

I turned to my Creator in Forgiveness, and in a state of helplessness and utter dependency,

I Cried and I Cried and I Cried...

"Allhummar-Zuqni Shuhaadah
Allhummar-Zuqni Shuhaadah
Allhummar-Zuqni Shuhaadah"

And yet the tears didn't stop...

I begged Allah to bestow his Mercy on Me, and My Brothers, and He Mercifully answered My prayers.

He Granted me Sleep.

But then I awoke and the tears within never did stop.

[Sister SN, UK, 28 Feb 2000]