 As we know, Sayyidna Zaynab, alayhi salam, plays one of the biggest roles within the tragedy of Karbala, and both men and women can learn from her great lessons. And so with that, let's pretend as if we are having a conversation with her. I found a woman in the distance who whispered a single name. She came closer and continued to whisper that same name. I asked her what it meant. But she did not reply and said she managed to raise her eyes to mine as she whispered it. One last time I asked her once more, what does this name mean? She replied, do you know about the planes that led me further from his final moments? Do you know about the cries that I heard coming from his own children? Do you know how many hearts on that single day were left broken? Do you know thirst like the humidity of deserts? Do you know tears like ocean waves drowning you without a breath? Do you know the hill I stood on and how quickly I wished it would crumble? Do you know the flames that buried my sanity within its rubble? Do you know the one who carried water in his palms without any arms? Do you know the lady that stood in black as she watched over her severed son? If I were to speak I told her I wouldn't know where to begin. But this name that you say is the familiarity of my kin. I've heard his story over and over, but you've soaked me in this reality's sin. I swear my eyes did not see tragedy. But if only, if only I said as she stopped me, she grasped me and hugged me. They call you the lady of tragedies as the entire world weighs heavy on your shoulders. Yet it is you who comforts me as I retell his story. Who are you? Who are you? I wish to know. I wish to know who can bring comfort to strangers, yet you're the one who endured it all. How can you leave my heart in divine guidance? Yet I watch as you remain tall. Who are you? I wish to know. She says, I am Zaynab Al-Qubraq. I am Zaynab Al-Hawraq. I am Zaynab Ameer Al-Mu'mineen. I am Zaynab Al-Aqeelat Bani Hashem. I am Zaynab, I am Zaynab, the sister of the one who slotted on the plains of Karbalaq. The sister of the one who held me dear as in sorrow I had saq. I am Zaynab, the sister of the one who would comfort me. I am Zaynab, the sister of the one who gave my life vision and sight. The sister of the one who saw his face and saw divine light. I am the sister of the one that fed the whole of Medina, yet remained without a bite. I am the sister of the one whose body remains without a coffin. I am the sister of the one whose kids are now orphans. I am Zaynab, I am Zaynab. I know now about all that you've seen. Yet I ask the question, why you, Ya Binta Ameer Al-Mu'mineen? She told me, do you know anyone who loved him more than me? Do you know anyone who he they only see? Do you know who would harbor him and never flee? Do you know why I love him so dearly? I understand this love, Moulati. For you without him, I'd never be. Ahsanti, ahsanti, she tells me. As she managed to raise her eyes to mine, as she whispered it one last time. Hussein, Hussein, Hussein. In honor of Sayyid Zaynab, raise your voices in the loudest of salawat, ala Muhammad wa alim Muhammad. When I write a poem, I'm inspired by one word. And then based off of that word, I can write an entire poem. So when I was thinking about what poem I can write for this specific event, I went on Google and literally searched unique words. And the first word that came up was S, Y, Z, Y, G, Y. Society, in astronomy. A society is an alignment of three celestial bodies in one straight line. It is the Earth, the Sun, and the Moon. It is a rare occurrence. A world phenomenon. It gathers the people of all races, of all kinds, under its wing as it dances in the skies, accessorizing itself with the constellations. And we watch. We all watch this great ordeal of the Earth, the Sun, and the Moon. A society sometimes results in an occultation, transit, or eclipse. An occultation occurs when an apparently larger body passes in front of an apparently smaller one. A transit occurs when a smaller body passes in front of a larger one. An eclipse occurs when a body totally or partially disappears from view, either by an occultation as with a solar or eclipse, or by passing into the shadow of another body as with a lunar eclipse. But what happens when a body is embalmed with the tears of generations? And what if the spirit of the body is still living? And what if the eclipse is to be taken too literally and completely eradicates his being? What if all the constellations in the night sky were to fall? We'd call it cryptic. We'd say it was the sign of the times. It was the resurrection of all our sins. And we would plead like a beggar upon the door of our Lord, praying that the Earth, Sun, and Moon would be OK, that we would be OK, because your light doesn't shine like the Moon. Rather, the Moon shines like your light but the Sun. My Sun, He has fallen. My Earth has been broken. My Moon no longer lights my way. I am the shadow of another body. I am the shadow transcending my mother, whose body too was none of the above. It was broken. Fallen from the skies like the heavens had an eclipse when their Moon was taken. Do you see how the world watches in awe when these bodies are aligned? Do you see how sometimes it is people who allow these bodies to be aligned? How it is we who let these bodies be aligned? His body aligned with His body, with His body and His body. My body found its way out of its orbit when He tormented my hijab. It was my garments that strung these bodies together. In the night sky, the stars glistened. Because that is how they reflected their shyness in my presence, they fell. Just like we fall without our oxygen, do you see? The society is no longer beautiful. It can no longer align because its Earth, its Sun, and its Moon have fallen. In honor of Sayyidush Al-Hadaa, raise your voices in the laudice of Salawat Salam, Muhammed Wa Aaleem, Muhammed.