Rafidhi

They ask me why I love Ali, why his name lives inside of me. I tell them this is not just a claim, this love is fire, this love is flame. I did not buy it. I did not earn. Allah gave it, and my heart learned. To love Muhammad, pure and bright, to love Fatimah, the Lady of Light. To love Hasan, patient and kind, to love Husain, always on my mind. To love Sajjad through his cries, to love Baqir, knowledge so wise. To love Sadiq, truth so clear, to love Kazim, patient through fear. To love Ridha, far from home, to love Jawad, never alone. To love Hadi, firm and true, to love Askari, hidden from view. To love Mahdi, my living guide, the Imam my heart keeps deep inside. They call me Rafidhi like it is shame, but I smile when they say that name. If Rafidhi means I reject the lie, then write that name before I die. If Rafidhi means Ali is my way, then call me that every single day. If Rafidhi means Husain is my cry, then let that title lift me high. I reject all who reject Ali; that’s why they call me Rafidhi. I reject hate, and I reject tyranny. I reject the path that left truth behind. I reject the darkness that made hearts blind. But this love is not just rejection. This love is my heart’s direction. This love is sweet, though the road is hard. This love is my honor, my shield, my guard. Yes, this path brings pain and tears, questions, whispers, lonely years. But when I say, “Ya Husain,” even my pain begins to fade. When I say, “Ya Ali,” something strong wakes up in me. When I send salawat at night, my broken heart begins to feel light. So Ya Allah, keep me near, to the ones my soul holds dear. Let this love live in my chest, until my body is laid to rest. And when I leave this world one day, let Muhammad and his family light my way. For I have no treasure, no crown, no gold, just this love my heart will hold. And if they ask what saved me too, I’ll say: Muhammad and his Ahlulbayt pulled me through.