Fatima is Fatima Part 5

She Seeks Out the Soil of Hes Graver Father" 

Now the only meaning she finds in life is the kind soil of her father"s grave and the hopeful news he, gave her when he said, "Fatima, you will be the first person to join me from among my family." 

But when? What an exciting anticipation! 

Her suffering spirit, like a wounded bird whose wings have been broken, is imprisoned and impatient from three sides: the silent and sorrowful visage of her husband, the saddened faces of her children and the silent, cold earth upon her father in the corner of Aiesha"s house. 

Whenever the pain in her heart increases and she loses her breath from crying, she senses that she is in need of the kindness and condolences of her father. She seeks him out. She falls upon the silent earth of her father. She stares at his grave and suddenly it is as if she just. heard of the death of her father for the first time. She cries out. 

She pushes her fingers into the earth: She fills her empty hands with it. She tries to see him behind the cur¬tain of tears. She puts the earth upon her face and with all of the emotions through which she loved her father, she smells it and for a moment she is at peace, she has found condolence, but suddenly, in a tone which breaks with tears, she says, "Anyone who smells the earth of Ahmad (Mohammad) has lost nothing if they never again smell any other musk. Oh, father, what miseries have fallen upon me after you. If they had fallen upon a bright day, they would turn it into night." Gradually she would grow silent. The earth of her father"s grave pours through her senseless fingers. She looks at it with painful amazement. Then she becomes motionless and silent. 

She puts all of her sorrows in the death of her father. Each day is like the first day of his death. Her impatience grows everyday and her cries become more painful. The wives of the Helpers gather round her and cry with her. The pressure and pain and the wave of sorrows are pressing upon her heart and causing her eyes to bleed. She com¬plains of their extortion and remembers what they did to her and the right they destroyed. 

Her sorrow is more disturbing than anyone can con¬ceive of to be able to console her or ask her to be patient. Nights and days pass like this. The Companions have been warmed by their powers, richness and conquering and Ali in his sorrow, silent and Fatima in thoughts of death. The moment of impatience arrives, the gift her father had pro¬mised her.

The Death of Fatima

 

Each day that passes she becomes more impatient for death. The only way she can bear to remain alive is if she could seek refuge in her father and be drawn beside him when her faith and spirit overflow with complaints and pain.

What need does she have to such a refuge, such a peace? But time passes slowly. Ninety five days have pass¬ed since her father promised her death and death would not come. 

It came. Today is Monday, the 3rd of Jamadi al thani, the 11th year of the migration, the year of the death of her father. She kisses each one of the children. Hasan is 7, Hosein is 6, Zainab, 5, and Umm Khulthum, 3. 

And now is the moment to bid farewell to Ali. How difficult it is! And Ali must remain alone in the world for thirty more years. She sends for Umm Rafe"a to come. She had arranged the Prophet"s funeral. 

She says, "Oh slave of God. Pour water on me so that I may wash myself. With patience and peace, she performs the abulution. Then she puts on the clothes which she had not worn since the death of her father and had put away. It is as if she had put aside the memory of her mourning and now is going to see a dear friend. 

She says to Umm Rafe"a, "Put my bed in the middle of the room." Softly and quietly she steps into the bed. She faces the Ka"ba and she waits. A moment passes, mo¬ments... 

Suddenly cries are heard within the house. She closes her lids and opens her eyes upon her beloved who was awaiting her. 

A candle of fire and sorrow is extinguished in Ali"s house. 

And Ali remains alone, with his children. 

She had asked Ali to bury her at night so that no one would recognize her grave and so that those two elders would not follow her corpse to the grave. 

Ali did as she had asked. But no one knows how. And they still do not know where. In her home? Or in Baghia"? It is not clear. And where in Baghia? It is not clear. That which is clear is the pain of Ali, tonight, next to the grave of Fatima. 

Medina is silent in the night. All Moslems are asleep. The night is only broken by the quiet whisperings of Ali. Ali is very much alone both in the city and in his home without the Prophet and without Fatima. Like a moun¬tain of pain, he is sitting upon the earth of the grave of Fatima. Hours pass. Night, quiet and silent, listens to the pain of his whisperings. Baghia is peaceful, fortunate. Me¬dina is without loyalty and impoverished. All remains in silence. The awakened graves and sleeping city listens! 

The wind of the night takes the words which flows with difficulty from the spirit of Ali at the side of Fatima"s grave towards the house of the Prophet. "To you from me and from your daughter, who fell down beside you and who in such haste joined you. Greetings, oh Pro¬phet of God." 

"My patience and my ability have weakened from the fate of your dearest, oh Prophet of God. But how can I seek patience with such terrible misfortune and missing you? 

"I placed you in the grave but you still exist in my heart. We are all from God and unto God we shall return. But my sorrow is eternal and my nights, sleepless until God takes me to the same home in which you are now. 

"Right now, your daughter will tell you how your tribe joined each other against her and took away her rights. Insist that she tell you everything that happened. All these things happened even though not much time has passed since your death and people have not forgotten you.

He remains silent for a moment. He suddenly senses the exhaustion of a whole lifetime. It is as if with every word which is pulled from the depths of his being, he gives up a part of his existence.

He is alone. He does not know what to do. Stay? Re¬turn home? How can he leave Fatima here alone? How can he return alone to his home? The city looks like a devil in the darkness of the night. Schemes, treacheries and shame¬lessness awaits him. 

How can he stay? His children, the people, Truth, res¬ponsibilities and a heavy mission await him. His pain is so heavy that it destroys his strong spirit. He cannot decide. Hesitation grips his soul. Go? Stay? He senses that he is unable to do either. He does not know what he will do. He explains to Fatima.

Then he arose; stood, faced the Prophet"s house, with a state which would overflow if poured into the word, feel¬ings, he wants to tell him that he is returning that which had been entrusted to him. `Listen to what she says. Ask her to tell you everything precisely. Have her count all the things that she saw after you, one by one!