Poem: Destruction of Baqee

By: Anonymous JIC Community Member

A holy site, surrounded by much plight.

Many graves.  The Holy Prophet’s uncles, aunts, wives and many other braves.

Madina once the Islamic stronghold, reside the holy household.

What is left now makes me wonder how.

Radical introduction causing unthinkable, barbaric destruction.

Graves demolished, emblems abolished.

Relevant Islamic history, forever a mystery.

Our Holy Imams now lay, but nothing to display.

Zahra (as) all alone, her resting abode unknown.

Harassed in the past.  Even today, their current state aghast.

Hard to recognize, tears flowing, trying to empathize.

Restricted visitation, causing much frustration.

Women, my sisters, not allowed, they announce with pride, aloud.

Prayers regulated, God’s worshippers segregated.

“Who is buried here?” I ask.

“Who knows….some musketeer!” they bark.

Preachers in their garbs, against tradition, tongues full of barbs.

“Bidah Bidah” they repeatedly say, this is no way to pray.

You can’t do this! You can’t do that! Fully armed, ready for combat.

Enveloped in sadness, O Imam-e-Zamaan, help us in this madness.

“Times up, let’s shut the gates”. Alas! Believers in lines, still wait.

As we turn around, our hearts remain bound.

Forced to leave Baqee this holy site, return, my wish, I might.

To pay respects, to the Prophet’s family, followers and subjects.

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