 A poem titled, The Lion's Loins. She stood amongst the group of thieves who stole her brother's life. They thought that they could overcome her grief, her pain, her strife. They forgot the one who now stands tall descends from Lion's Loins. She never ceased in speaking out, endowed with light and poise. Who are you, O son of Hind, that you think that I'll remain? Quiet, broken and afraid to speak when my brother was Hussein. He stood alone in the face of death, brave and unafraid. He fought until his bloody body is all that now remains. Have you forgotten who I am? I am the daughter of Ali. Do you think that you'll bring shame to us by calling all to see what you have done to Allah's proof? Never will that be. My mother is the lady who now leads paradise. My father is the sort of God who claimed your family's life. How ill you planned, how ill you judged, what you thought would come to be. The truth is now made plain in sight for those who wish to see. Never will you take our right and never will we bow. Before shaitan instead of God, your souls are damned to hell. Did you think that setting fires to the daughters of Rasul would not invoke the curse of God, the witness of Batur? Did you think by taking children captive, you'd look like one of good? We are the family of the message that came with prophethood. Take our lives, it matters not. God's plan will still prevail. And in time you'll see who's cursed on pulpits and whose names forever hailed. The prince of all the martyrs, the leader of the youth, the one you killed in Karbala for standing with the truth. By God you'll never see the day we extend our hands to you. Our pledge is only to Allah where the souls are all to do. The angel of death so eager awaits the order to take you back. To God where he will show you where the flames will never lack, then that day will come to pass. And for it we await the household of the prophet which no believer hates. To watch the justice of our Lord as he sorts the souls in place. And on your knees I promise you, O Yazid, you'll fall upon your face. Hussein will ask before his Lord for what sin my baby died. Do you think that on that day behind your lies that you can hide? God is the all hearing, the all seeing of all you do. Believe that what you've done to Hussein will be the seal of your doom. My father is Ali, his brother the Rasul. They're blood flows freely through my veins. We are the keepers of the pool. There you'll see us gathered in peace. We all will go. But not you, O sons of the cursed. Only then you'll come to know.