A Faithful Wife

Four wives stand before history, Four lives through which one truth is known Faith is never gained through marriage, Nor by husbands’ rank alone. Tell me not whose house she entered— Tell me where she chose to stand. Faith is measured by her choices When the trial is at hand. One lived in the house of Mercy, Heard the verses being revealed; Yet the mention of a dead wife Stirred a jealousy unconcealed. She had never seen that woman, Never met her face to face; Still she envied how the Prophet Kept her memory in its place. For that wife believed before them When the world denied his call; Spent her wealth to guard his mission, Gave her comfort, gave her all. When he spoke about her virtues, When he praised the love she gave, Even years could not diminish Love that reached beyond the grave. But a title crowned another: Mother of the Faithful—known. And while a title may be granted; Faithfulness must still be shown. Once wed to Rahmatul lil-‘Alamin, She raised an army against Amirul Mu’minin. The wife of Mercy rode toward war, Against the one he called his door. She journeyed outward for a battle, Seated where the armies met; Muslim swords were raised on Muslims— Blood that history can’t forget. She was called their honored mother, Yet her children fought and died. Can a mother lead the faithful Against the faithful’s rightful guide? Then behold another mother, Known by neither crown nor throne; She was called the Mother of Sons— Four brave sons she called her own. In the household of the Lion, She had taught them whom to serve: Stand beside the rightful leader; Never from his justice swerve. When the Prophet’s grandson journeyed Toward the trial of Karbala, All four sons stood there beside him, Giving everything for Allah. One became the moon of valor, Bearing water through the field; Though his arms were torn and severed, Still his loyalty would not yield. One by one, her sons were slaughtered On the burning desert sand. Not for wealth, revenge, or power— For the truth they chose to stand. One raised troops against the Lion; One raised lions for his son. One brought Muslims to the battlefield; One gave four—and kept back none. One was called Mother of Believers, Yet opposed their rightful guide. One was called the Mother of Sons, And raised all four to choose his side. But there remained another woman, Locked within a tyrant’s halls; Yet the darkness of her husband Never crossed her spirit’s walls. She was wed to one who boasted, “I am your most high lord.” Still she worshipped the Creator, Not the tyrant she abhorred. Neither palaces nor riches, Neither torture, threat, nor chain, Could persuade her heart to worship One whose kingdom would not remain. She looked past the throne around her, Past the jewels and walls of stone: “Build for me a house near You, Lord, And deliver me from his throne.” Though she shared the bed of evil, She became the faithful’s sign; Allah made her an example— Faithful, fearless, and divine. Thus the wife of Heaven’s chosen May still envy, fight, and stray; While the wife of earth’s most wicked May still choose the narrow way. And the mother without armies May raise soldiers pure and brave— Sons who knew that life with falsehood Was more shameful than the grave. So tell me not whom she was married, Nor what title crowned her life. Tell me what she chose in hardship— That reveals a faithful wife. A husband’s rank cannot decide The faith a woman holds inside. For Heaven asks, through joy and strife: When truth was tried—were you a faithful wife?