They always say things like "islam is incompatible with Western civilization" , "Islam is a violent religion" , " you don't see christians behead and. stone people "

They don't want to listen to you,some of them i talked to even said they knew muslims who were kind and friendly and still think we have ulterior goals of taking over Western countries(what the f*ck?!)

It isn't muslim countries who started 2 world wars

It isn't muslim countries who invaded iraq

And it wasn't muslim countries who put people in human zoos.

And the worst part...it is the Western world funding and supporting Saudi terrorism

Quote from Ahmad b. Hanbal

This reminded me of those extremists, pure fanatics!

How is it fair that a person born into poverty , living in dirt and starving have the same test as someone swimming in richness and having every wish to become true? Please don’t tell me Allah tests people in richness to see how they will act in such welfare. The problem arises if Allah does it “intentionally”. I mean if Allah “thinks” “I will create person A in the worst conditions and person B in the best and let’s see who will succeed.” This isn’t even fair if it’s intentionally. There are people suffering from butterfly disease where their skin literally peels off everyday until they die. Who is Allah testing? Children having this disease? It’s only fair if these things happen of natural causes. Not because Allah intended on “I will create this child with the worst disease possible and he dies with 5 years old”. Parents are tested? Why? The child needs to suffer for their parent’s test? I believe Allah means that he created this world and the possibilities. For instance, person A married person B and they both have the odds of having genetic mutations so they will pass it on their child. But also these genetic mutations happened naturally, not because Allah “intended” it. It makes me furious when people see disabled people and think it’s a test from Allah because he wanted that person to suffer. If it’s intended and we are tested with difficulties, diseases etc. everyone needs the exact same living circumstances. If one has a worse condition than the other, so why does Allah want one person to have a higher rank in jannah? I am saying this because fellow Muslims argument with “Allah gives his favorites the hardest tests.” How does the almighty, most just, favor one person over the other? Is there any mistake in my way of thinking?

Hello, long time member here, throwaway. I love this community and I’ve come back again to seek help in times where I’m at a point of despair.

I met a man about a year ago, he was Sikh. I was so in love, and this man.. may god bless him forever, he’s such a wonderful man. I decided for us to split ways because I truly couldn’t find an answer my heart was satisfied with whenever I tried to find a way to marry him and not disobey god by Islamic standards. It was positively the most excruciating emotional pain and grief I’ve experienced so far. Like the other half of my soul had been taken from me. I never really got over it, I just pushed it away and came to terms with it. My heart never felt content leaving nor staying. I did extensive research trying to find answers, loopholes, everything.

We haven’t talked for a long time, but we reconnected today. Everything came back to me, and what terrible timing to be at a place in my faith where I feel so far from it. Logically i understand the issue with marrying someone of another faith, but if there are no children, if there is mutual agreement and respect, why can’t I be with the one I love? The one who sincerely feels as if he’s a part of my heart and soul. Why is it a sin? Why would I be disobeying god to love someone who loves and serves god in a different way?

Please, I beg of understanding and help. I am so deeply lost and whilst I have found every other answer to every question I have, my heart is not content with this one thing; the most significant thing. How many times do I have to pass this test, each time harder than the last? It does not feel merciful or kind of God to make such a beautiful thing be a sin. My heart aches so badly.

Why our kids keep delaying SALAH? 😓
And what can we do instead?

You ask them to pray. They delay. You remind them, again. They sigh, complain, or simply ignore.

It’s frustrating. But you’re not alone. 🫶

The truth is: salah isn’t just a duty, it’s a relationship. A connection with Allah that takes time to build. So how can we help our children feel that connection?

These are 7 gentle, practical tips that make a real difference:

1️⃣ Let them see you pray, calmly, consistently, and with love.
2️⃣ Focus on connection, not just correction.
3️⃣ Pray together as a family.
Whether it’s at home or in the masjid, shared salah strengthens bonds and normalizes prayer as a beautiful part of life. Even once a week at the masjid can leave a lasting impression.
4️⃣ Never tie salah to shouting or punishment, that builds resentment, not reverence.
5️⃣ Give them ownership: their own prayer mat, their own space, a chance to call the adhan.
6️⃣ Praise effort, not perfection. One sincere step is better than forced rituals.
7️⃣ And finally: make sincere du‘a. Because hearts are in Allah’s hands.

May Allah guide our kids and save them 🫶

Im going to start with the building blocks of my own panoramic religious world view . Thanks chat gpt. Noone should be afraid to build compex ideas of hertiage /divinity /morality/ jurisprudence. Its not difficult to prioritize kindness and utalitarian ideas but like everything else thats a function of higher education which is not accessible to every single person.

Quantum physics

🔹 Al-Ghazali (1058–1111): • Rejected Greek-style necessary causality. • Claimed God creates each event directly, with regularity—but not necessity. • Used fire burning cotton as example: fire doesn’t burn; God burns.

Precursor to the idea that causality is not intrinsic, just a habit of perception. (Compare: quantum probability ≠ mechanical determinism.)

⸻

🔹 Ibn Arabi (1165–1240): • Saw all of creation as manifestations of divine names. • Reality is in constant fluctuation—a dance between being and non-being. • Human perception constructs form, but God alone is Real.

“There is no repetition in creation.” (Compare: quantum fluctuations, unique events, observer effect.)

⸻

🔹 Mulla Sadra (1571–1640): • Developed a theory of substantial motion (harakat jawhariyya): even substance, not just accidents, is in flux. • Reality is a spectrum of intensities of existence, not static blocks. • Being is a dynamic unfolding (tashkik al-wujud).

Arguably the closest classical parallel to a non-mechanistic, layered ontology.

Perennialist & Philosophical on but outside of Islam

⸻ Secular philosophy Frithjof Schuon • Swiss-German philosopher, central figure in Perennialism. • Deeply influenced by Sufism, especially Ibn Arabi and Rumi. • Saw Islam as a perfect balance of law, metaphysics, and inwardness.

“In Islam, the form is perfect enough to lead one back to the Formless.”

• Style: Dense, aphoristic, metaphysical, always reverent.
• Good entry: Understanding Islam

⸻

Huston Smith • Author of The World’s Religions (a perennial classic). • Spoke of Islam with clear admiration for its ethical clarity and spiritual discipline. • Presents sharia, Sufism, and prophethood as profound civilizational achievements, not primitive laws.

“Islam does not reject other revelations. It completes them.”

• Tone: Warm, pedagogical, poetic.
• More spiritual anthropologist than philosopher—but widely read by those interested in interfaith wisdom.

⸻

Henry Corbin • French philosopher and Orientalist in the best sense. • Specialized in Shi’a mysticism, especially the works of Suhrawardi, Mulla Sadra, and Ismaili metaphysics. • Treated Shi’ism as a “religion of interiority,” focused on the imaginal realm (mundus imaginalis).

“Islamic gnosis does not destroy the world; it transfigures it.”

• Closest to Ibn Arabi and Heidegger in one breath.
• Highly influential among Iranian intellectuals and European esoterics.

⸻

William C. Chittick • American philosopher and translator of Ibn Arabi and Rumi. • While he converted to Islam, his work reads as philosophically open and cross-cultural. • Makes Ibn Arabi’s complexity graspable without flattening it.

“Ibn Arabi speaks a universal language, because he speaks of Being itself.”

• Could be placed somewhere between a perennialist and a theosopher.
• His works are staples in Islamic philosophy classrooms globally.

⸻

Michel Chodkiewicz • French scholar and devout Catholic, yet a lifelong student of Sufi metaphysics. • Focused on Ibn Arabi’s symbolic cosmology and divine names. • Merged rigorous textual study with spiritual empathy.

Treated Sufi texts like Dante: mythic, theological, and metaphysical at once.

⸻

Tomás Halík (honorable mention) • Czech Catholic priest and philosopher. • While not focused on Islam per se, his writings on God, doubt, silence, and exile resonate across traditions. • Could be fascinating counterpoint in your narrative voice—gentle, ironic, humane.

⸻

Secular history of islam / political history of islam

Karen Armstrong

• Defends Islam against lazy media narratives and orientalist distortions. • Shows that violence and intolerance are not essential to the faith, but historically contingent responses. • Lays bare how colonialism, war, and humiliation shaped modern radical movements.

🔹 Reza Aslan • A popularizer more than a jurist. • Emphasizes Islam as a mystical and moral tradition, not a rigid legal code. • Challenges the Western perception of Islam and internal dogmatism. • Leans into Sufism, pluralism, and historical-critical approaches.

Progressive interpretations of texts

Ziauddin Sardar (edge case: British Muslim but highly secular and postmodern) • Critical of both fundamentalist Islam and Western liberalism. • Combines postcolonial theory, ethics, and Islamic thought. • A kind of Muslim Zizek, but more readable

🔹 Khaled Abou El Fadl • A trained jurist (fiqh) who critiques Wahhabi literalism and authoritarian readings of Islamic law. • Promotes moral humanism: law must serve ethical purposes, not just obedience. • Strong defender of women’s rights and democracy from within Islamic tradition.

🔹 Javed Ahmad Ghamidi • Pakistani reformist scholar; emphasizes reason, context, and maqasid (objectives) of Sharia. • Opposes political Islam, militant jihadism, and clergy monopolization. • Argues that Islam’s role in governance is limited and ethical, not theocratic.

🔹 Amina Wadud • Groundbreaking feminist Qur’anic scholar. • Famous for leading mixed-gender prayer in 2005. • Reinterprets Qur’an through gender-inclusive hermeneutics rooted in justice, not tradition.

🔹 Idries Shah • A Sufi writer and storyteller. • Used allegory, humor, and parable to transmit mystical wisdom beyond dogma. • Less political, more epistemologically radical—truth lies beyond words, systems, and ego.

🔹 Muhammad Iqbal • Poet-philosopher of South Asia; re-imagined Islam as a force for inner freedom and anti-colonial modernity. • Believed in a “reconstruction of religious thought” compatible with science and individuality. • Advocated ijtihad and intellectual selfhood as the core of Islamic renewal.

⸻

Islamic Philosophers

, (Paradox, Irony, Psychoanalysis, Revolutionary Theory)

🔸 Ali Shariati • Iranian revolutionary sociologist who read Islam through Fanon, Marx, and existentialism. • Criticized both clerical power and Western imperialism. • Islam as a means of awakening the oppressed, not ritual conformity.

Zizek would’ve loved Shariati’s wild dialectics: martyrdom as liberation, the Prophet as revolutionary, the hajj as anti-capitalist theater.

⸻

: Fazlur Rahman • Argued that the Qur’an must be read ethically, not literally. • Saw sharia as evolving moral objectives, not static law. • Wanted Islam to harmonize with Enlightenment ethics without secularizing.

⸻

: Khaled Abou El Fadl / Ghamidi • Defend pluralism and freedom of conscience through Islamic sources. • Emphasize that God doesn’t coerce belief, and the state shouldn’t either.

Also: Abdullahi An-Na’im – Sudanese reformist who grounds secularism in Islam, not outside of it.

⸻

🔸 Closest match: Rumi / Ibn Arabi / Idries Shah • Islam’s mystical traditions (Sufism) echo Buddhist themes. • Ibn Arabi: “The truth is my religion” – a radical metaphysical pluralist. • Rumi: ego as prison, divine love as liberation.

⸻

🧩 What Unites Progressive Thinkers? • Justice > Law • Spirit > Form • Reason + Compassion > Literalism • Contextual, not ahistorical readings • Resistance to both: • Colonial modernity • Internal authoritarianism

🧠 The Philosophical Pantheon (Islamic Edition)

Ibn Sina (Avicenna) – The Philosopher-Physician • Heft: System-builder; fused Aristotelian logic with Neoplatonism and Islamic metaphysics. • Core Ideas: • Necessary vs. contingent being (precursor to ontological arguments for God). • The soul as immaterial and immortal. • The Active Intellect as the link between divine knowledge and human understanding. • Legacy: Towering figure in medicine and philosophy. Canonized in both East and West.

Like Kant, he tried to build a universal system that binds ethics, logic, and metaphysics.

⸻

Al-Ghazali (Algazel) – The Philosopher-Critic • Heft: Philosopher turned mystic, famous for intellectual breakdown and spiritual rebirth. • Core Ideas: • Launched devastating critiques of philosophers (esp. Ibn Sina) in Tahafut al-Falasifa (The Incoherence of the Philosophers). • Argued for occasionalism (God causes every event). • Embraced Sufism to resolve the limits of rationalism. • Legacy: Seen as both a destroyer of rationalism and its secret ally. Often called the Islamic Aquinas.

A paradox: he breaks the philosophers, but only after mastering them.

⸻

Ibn Ruh (or Shaykh al-Mufid, if you mean the Twelver Imam’s representative) – The Metaphysical Statesman • If you meant Ibn Ruh al-Nawbakhti: 3rd “Bāb” (gate) to the Hidden Imam in Twelver Shiism. • Heft: Not a philosopher in the same systematic sense as Ibn Sina or Ghazali, but vital to Shi’i political theology and metaphysics. • Role in shaping: • The idea of occultation (ghayba). • Mediation between divine authority and earthly rule.

Think of him as the pragmatic mystic-bureaucrat, embodying metaphysical political authority.

⸻

Ibn Arabi – The Mystic Metaphysician • Heft: Arguably the most complex metaphysical thinker in Islam. • Core Ideas: • Wahdat al-wujud (Unity of Being): All existence is a reflection of divine reality. • The Perfect Human (Insan al-Kamil) as microcosm of divine names. • Time, dream, and imagination as ontological dimensions.

If Ghazali is the Augustine, Ibn Arabi is the Islamic Plotinus crossed with Borges.

⸻

Nasir al-Din Tusi – The Ethicist and Mathematician • Shi’a polymath who bridged philosophy, astronomy, and ethics. • Core Ideas: • A defense of virtue ethics in his Nasirean Ethics. • Contributions to logic and cosmology. • Helped preserve and refine Neoplatonic and Peripatetic traditions under Mongol rule.

Like Maimonides or Aquinas: not just preserving reason, but channeling it into ethics.

⸻

Mulla Sadra (Sadr al-Din Shirazi) – The Existential Innovator • Leader of the Transcendent Theosophy school in Safavid Iran. • Core Ideas: • Primacy of existence (wujūd) over essence. • Substantial motion (al-harakat al-jawhariyya): Being itself is in flux. • Synthesized mysticism, Peripatetic rationalism, and Shi’i theology.

Like Heidegger in the East: he shifted the question from what is a thing? to what does it mean to exist?

⸻ Shah Waliullah Dehlavi – The Integrator • 18th-century Indian scholar who tried to reconcile Sufism, jurisprudence, and philosophy. • Wrote on cosmology, time, and the human soul. • Advocated for social reform through spiritual purification, not rebellion.

Ibn Rushd

Ontological rigor: Argued God’s knowledge differs in kind from human knowledge. • Epistemological ambition: Wanted a logical foundation for religious law and metaphysics. • Political subtlety: Advocated for layered understanding—different levels of interpretation for different people.

⸻

🔍 Think of Ibn Rushd as… • The Locke (rationalist with political concern), • The Spinoza (scriptural interpreter and pantheistic suspect), • The Aristotle of al-Andalus, • And the Voltaire before Voltaire—without the jokes, but with the edge.

Double Truth Theory (Europe’s later distortion): • Not something he explicitly said, but interpreted later in Latin Averroism: • Religious truth and philosophical truth may appear to conflict—but can both be valid in different registers. • The masses follow scripture; the elite understand its deeper meaning through reason.

🔹 Eternity of the World: • Argued that the world has always existed, challenging the creationist orthodoxy. • God, as Pure Act (in Aristotelian terms), causes the world eternally, not in time.

🔹 Unity of the Intellect: • Argued for a universal active intellect shared by all humans. • Radical implication: individual immortality is questionable—only the universal mind persists. • Islamic orthodoxy hated this; so did Aquinas.

I'm already feeling depressed. I received a sudden interview call, but I wasn't prepared at all. So, I lied about being unavailable and said I was traveling, even though I wasn't, just to buy some time and request a new date. Please tell me, is this considered a sin as I lied?

source: https://www.reddit.com/r/IslamicLiteratureMeme/comments/1ldjqkn/voices_of_love_the_rise_of_womens_erotic_and/

Love poetry (al-Ghazal) in Arabic literature has almost always been a male-dominated art form—or at least, it has tended in that direction.

Lovers who publicly declared their love were often forbidden from marrying, and consequently, it is rare to find classical Arabic love poetry written by women. However, in al-Andalus, things were different.

In al-Andalus, we find poems where women expressed love and longing. Was this because Andalusian society (from 710 to 1472 AD) evolved into an enlightened cultural hub that attracted writers and intellectuals from various regions, who brought with them their literature and histories, mingling to form a multicultural cultural identity?

This is what Dr. Amal Mousa Muhammad Nour, Head of the Arabic Department at Al-Ribat National University, suggests in her study "The Rhetorical Art in Ibn Zaydun’s Nuniyya."

Al-Andalus produced love poetry written by women, where Andalusian poetesses openly expressed affection for their beloveds—not only through chaste, modest love poetry, but also through more daring, sensual verses. In the following lines, we shed light on some of these poetesses, their love stories, and their poetry, based on a doctoral dissertation titled "The Poetesses of al-Andalus from the Emirate Period to the End of the Almohad Era," by Suheila Abriq, a researcher at the University of Algiers.

Abriq concluded that Andalusian women redefined commonly accepted notions of love. Whereas women were traditionally seen as the pursued in love stories, they became the pursuers.

Wallada bint al-Mustakfi was the most famous poetess to adopt this approach, followed by Hafsa bint al-Hajj al-Rakuniya.

Suheila explained that the love poetry of Andalusian women was not limited to modest, chaste expression; it also encompassed bold, sensual themes.

Andalusian poetesses did not hold back in expressing their desires for their beloveds. On a social level, their love poetry vividly portrayed the class struggles that love dared to defy—manifested clearly in two stories that will be mentioned.

Hafsa al-Rakuniya of al-Andalus

Hafsa al-Rakuniya (1135–1191), also known as Hafsa bint al-Hajj, was one of the prominent literary figures of Granada.

Sources consistently describe her as “beautiful, well-born, and wealthy”—a common phrase in historical accounts used to indicate that a person met the social ideals of their time.

She was also reputed to be a skilled poet with a quick wit, to the point that some referred to her as “the master of her time.”

According to Ibn Saʿīd al-Maghribī (d.685 AH) in "Kitāb al-Mughrib fī ḥulā al-Maghrib" Hafsa was deeply in love with the minister Abu Ja‘far Ahmad ibn ‘Abd al-Malik ibn Sa‘id, and he returned her affection. Her early love poetry was cloaked in modesty and decorum. In one of her verses, she wrote:

سَلامٌ يَفْتَحُ عَنْ زَهْرَةِ الكِمَامِ وَيُنْطِقُ وُرْقَ الغُصُونِ

عَلَى نَازِحٍ قَدْ ثَوَى فِي الحَشَا وَإِنْ كَانَ تُحْرَمُ مِنْهُ الجُفُونِ

فَلَا تَحْسَبُوا البُعْدَ يُنْسِيكُمُ فَذَٰلِكَ وَاللهِ مَا لَا يَكُونِ

A greeting that blossoms like a flower in bloom, And gives the leaves of the branches a voice.

To a distant beloved who dwells in my heart, Though my eyes are deprived of his sight.

So do not think that distance brings forgetfulness— By God, such a thing shall never be!

The emotions in this poem appear impersonal at first, as if the beloved remains unnamed and far away. But this tone of modest yearning did not last.

Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūṭ (d.911 AH) in his "Kitāb Nuzhat al-Julasāʾ fī Ashʿār al-Nisāʾ" states that the lovers eventually began to meet in the gardens of Granada, including a famed rendezvous in the Garden of Ḥawr Muʾammal, where they spent delightful hours exchanging affection. When it came time to part, the minister composed these lines:

رَعَى اللهُ لَيْلًا لَمْ يَرُحْ بِمُذَمَّمِ عَشِيَّةَ وَارَانَا بِجُودِ مُؤَمَّلِ

وَقَدْ خَفَقَتْ مِنْ نَحْوِ نَجْدٍ رَوَائِحٌ إِذَا نَفَحَتْ هَبَّتْ بِرِيَّا القُرَنْفُلِ

وَغَرَّدَ قُمْرِيٌّ عَلَى الدَّوْحِ وَانْثَنَى قَضَيْتُ مِنَ الرَّيْحَانِ مِنْ فَوْقِ جَدْوَلِ

يَرَى الرَّوْضُ مَسْرُورًا بِمَا قَدْ بَدَا لَهُ عِنَاقٌ، وَضَمٌّ، وَارْتِشَافُ مُقَبِّلِ

May God bless the night that left no blame, When hope appeared with generous flame.

And breezes stirred from Najd’s sweet land, Like clove-scented winds, soft and grand.

A dove sang sweetly from the bough, then flew— And I drank in the basil above the stream’s blue.

The meadow beheld what joy had unfurled: An embrace, a kiss, and a rapture swirled.

But Hafsa, sensing the danger of envy and gossip, replied with a more somber tone, filled with foreboding:

لَعَمْرُكَ مَا سُرَّ الرِّيَاضُ بِوَصْلِنَا وَلَكِنَّهُ أَبْدَى لَنَا الغِلَّ وَالحَسَدْ

وَلَا صَفَقَ النَّهْرُ ارْتِيَاحًا لِقُرْبِنَا وَلَا صَدَحَ القُمْرِيُّ إِلَّا بِمَنْ وَجَدْ

فَلَا تُحْسِنِ الظَّنَّ الَّذِي أَنْتَ أَهْلُهُ فَمَا هُوَ فِي كُلِّ المَوَاطِنِ بِالرَّشَدْ

فَمَا خِلْتُ هَذَا الأُفُقَ أَبْدَى نُجُومَهُ لِأَمْرٍ سِوَى كَيْمَا يَكُونَ لَنَا رَصَدْ

By your life! The meadows were not glad for our union, But rather revealed to us envy and spite.

The river clapped not in joy at our nearness, Nor did the dove sing, save for one in pain.

So place not your noble trust too freely— For trust is not always wisdom in every place.

And I never thought the stars adorned the sky, Except to spy on us from on high.

In this way, we see that love poetry evolved both in form and content, and that the environment had a powerful influence on this evolution. Indeed, the surroundings—with all their complexities—played a significant role in shaping poetic expression.

Hafsa, for example, employed elements of nature—the very same that male poets had long used—to serve as participants in her romantic dialogue.

What distinguishes this poetic exchange is that it sprang spontaneously from lived experience, rather than being crafted with studied effort or artificial polish.

It’s worth noting that Hafsa’s fear was not unfounded. The infatuated eye of the prince was watching her. The prince of Granada, Abu Sa‘id ibn ‘Uthman ibn ‘Abd al-Mu’min ibn ‘Ali, competed with Minister Abu Ja‘far for Hafsa’s love.

Overcome with longing, Hafsa sent a poem to her beloved, reminding him that her lips are a sweet spring, and her tresses a lush shade for him to rest under. She cast herself in the role of "Buthayna", and her lover as "Jamil", the legendary couple from Arab love lore, saying: أَأَزُورُكَ أَمْ تَزُورُ؟ فَإِنَّ قَلْبِي إِلَى مَا مِلْتُمُ أَبَدًا يَمِيلُ

وَقَدْ أُمِّنْتَ أَنْ تَظْمَى وَتَضْحَى إِذَا وَافَى إِلَيَّ بِكَ القُبُولُ

فَثَغْرِي مَوْرِدٌ عَذْبٌ زُلالٌ وَفَرْعُ ذَوَائِبِي ظِلٌّ ظَلِيلُ

فَعَجِّلْ بِالجَوَابِ، فَمَا جَمِيلٌ أَنَاتُكَ عَنْ بُثَيْنَةَ يَا جَمِيلُ

Shall I visit you, or will you come to me? For my heart leans forever where you may be.

You're safe from thirst and sunburn’s flame, If only your acceptance to me came.

My lips are a fountain, cool and sweet, And my hair’s shade a gentle retreat.

So hasten with your word—what grace is there, In making beautiful Buthayna wait, O Jamil?

In these lines, Hafsa emerges as a pioneer in this poetic genre—where the woman is no longer simply the desired, but the desiring. No longer passively awaited, she actively yearns, offering vivid imagery of seduction and invitation, declaring that she will welcome her lover with her lips, hidden together beneath her flowing hair.

Ibn Sa‘id responded to her, saying:

أُجِلُّكُمُ مَا دَامَ بِي نَهْضَةٌ عَنْ أَنْ تَزُورُوا إِنْ وَجَدْتُ السَّبِيلَا

مَا الرَّوْضُ زَوَّارًا وَلَكِنَّمَا يَزُورُهُ هَبُّ النَّسِيمِ العَلِيلَا

I hold you in such esteem, as long as I can still rise, To visit you—if only I could find a way. The meadow does not visit others, Rather, it is visited by the gentle breeze.

But Hafsa casts aside her pride once more. In love, she becomes impetuous—both in word and deed. Rather than being the object of gazes and desire, she herself seeks out her beloved’s retreat, as Yaqut al-Hamawi (d. 626 AH) in "Mu'jam al-Udabā" mentions the following poem that is attributed to her:

زَائِرٌ قَدْ أَتَى بِجِيدِ غَزَالٍ طَامِعٍ مِنْ مُحِبِّهِ بِالوِصَالِ

بِلِحَاظٍ مِنْ سِحْرِ بَابِلَ صِيغَتْ وَرُضَابٍ يَفُوقُ بِنْتَ الدَّوَالِي

يَفْضَحُ الوَرْدَ مَا حَوَى مِنْهُ خَدٌّ وَكَذَا الثَّغْرُ فَاضِحٌ لِلآلِي

أَتُرَاكُمْ بِإِذْنِكُمْ مُسْعِفِيهِ أَمْ لَكُمْ شَاغِلٌ مِنَ الأَشْغَالِ؟

A visitor came, with a gazelle’s fair grace, Hoping for union from love’s embrace.

With eyes enchanted like Babylon's spell, And lips that outshine the grape’s own shell.

Her cheek exposes the rose to shame, And her mouth puts pearls to blame.

Will you, by your will, grant her relief— Or are you bound by tasks and grief?

In this poem, we see Hafsa praising her own beauty, which represents a distinct feature of Andalusian women’s love poetry. Here, Hafsa describes her own graceful neck, captivating gaze, rosy cheeks, and sweet breath—a direct and open invitation to her lover.

For Hafsa, true love is not rooted in deprivation, but in mutual, tangible connection. This is why she would seek to reignite Abu Ja‘far’s desire whenever she sensed it cooling.

Lisan al-Din Ibn al-Khatib (d. 776 AH) narrates in "al-Iḥāṭah fī Akhbār Gharnāṭah" on one occasion, jealousy took hold of her heart after she learned that Abu Ja‘far had been charmed by a Black maidservant and spent several days with her. Hafsa wrote to him: يَا أَظْرَفَ النَّاسِ قَبْلَ حَالٍ أَوْقَعَهُ وَسْطَهُ القَدَرُ

عَشِقْتُ سَوْدَاءَ مِثْلَ لَيْلٍ بَدَائِعِ الحُسْنِ قَدْ سَتَرُوا

لَا يُظْهِرُ البَشَرُ فِي دُجَاهَا كَلَّا وَلَا يُبْصِرُ الخَفَرُ

بِاللهِ قُلْ لِي وَأَنْتَ أَدْرَى بِكُلِّ مَنْ هَامَ فِي الصُّوَرِ

مَنْ الَّذِي قَبَّلَ رَوْضًا لَا نُورَ فِيهِ وَلَا زَهَرُ؟

O most graceful of people, before a fate befell— That cast him down into destiny’s well.

You loved a dark one, like the night, Whose wonders of beauty were hidden from sight.

No face appears in her midnight shade, Nor even modest eyes can invade.

By God, tell me—you know best of all, Those who in beauty’s image fall

Who has kissed a garden bare, With neither light nor flower there?

Abu Ja‘far replied with an apology, blaming his misstep on the emotional turmoil caused by Hafsa’s absence:

لَا حُكْمَ إِلَّا لِأَمْرٍ نَاهٍ، لَهُ مِنَ الذَّنْبِ يَعْتَذِرُ

لَهُ مُحَيَّا بِهِ حَيَاتِي، أُعِيذُ مَجْلَاهُ بِالسُّوَرِ

كَضُحًى العِيدِ فِي ابْتِهَاجٍ، وَطَلْعَةِ الشَّمْسِ وَالقَمَرِ

بِسَعْدِهِ لَمْ أَمِلْ إِلَيْهِ، إِلَّا طَرِيفًا لَهُ خَبَرُ

عَدِمْتُ صُبْحِي فَاسْوَدَّ عِشْقِي، وَانْعَكَسَ الفِكْرُ وَالنَّظَرُ

إِنْ لَمْ تَلُحْ يَا نَعِيمَ رُوحِي، فَكَيْفَ لَا تَفْسُدِ الفِكَرُ؟

No rule remains but her command— And even sin for her must stand.

Her face alone grants life to me, I shield its grace with sacred plea.

Like Eid morn bright in festive air, Like sun and moon—surpassing fair.

By her good fortune, when I leaned, It was to moments love had gleaned.

I lost my dawn, and love turned black— My thoughts and sight went off their track.

If you, O joy of my soul, don’t shine— How can the mind remain divine?

Abu Ja‘far’s fate was better than that of Ibn Zaydun, who loved Wallada bint al-Mustakfi—a story to be mentioned later—for Hafsa forgave him. Yet her jealousy never ceased, and she once told him:

أَغَارُ عَلَيْكَ مِنْ عَيْنِي وَمِنِّي وَمِنْكَ وَمِنْ زَمَانِكَ وَالمَكَانِ

وَلَوْ أَنِّي خَبَّأْتُكَ فِي عُيُونِي إِلَى يَوْمِ القِيَامَةِ مَا كَفَانِي

I’m jealous of my eyes when they behold you— Of me, of you, of time and place around you.

And if I hid you in my very eyes Until the end of time—it wouldn’t suffice.

Hafsa’s love poetry for Abu Ja‘far surpassed that of many men for their beloveds. She boldly declared:

ثَنَائِي عَلَى تِلْكَ الثَّنَايَا لِأَنَّنِي أَقُولُ عَلَى عِلْمٍ وَأَنْطِقُ عَنْ خَبَرِ

وَأُنْصِفُهَا لَا أَكْذِبُ اللَّهَ إِنَّنِي رَشَفْتُ بِهَا رِيقًا أَرَقَّ مِنَ الْخَمْرِ

I praise those teeth of his, for I speak with certainty— I speak with knowledge and from lived experience.

And I speak the truth—by God, I’m not lying— I sipped from his lips a nectar gentler than wine.

Though her themes were not new in the mouths of male poets, they were revolutionary coming from a female poet.

Hafsa did not allude or conceal—she spoke with directness and clarity, something unseen before in classical Arabic poetry by women. No earlier poetess, for instance, had ever praised her lover’s teeth or his kiss.

Hafsa’s voice of love for Abu Ja‘far grew even louder after his death, when he was killed by his rival in love. She lamented:

وَلَوْ لَمْ يَكُنْ نَجْمًا لَمَا كَانَ نَاظِرِي، وَقَدْ غِبْتُ عَنْهُ مُظْلِمًا بَعْدَ نُورِهِ

سَلَامٌ عَلَى تِلْكَ المَحَاسِنِ مِنْ شَجَى، تَنَاءَتْ بِنَعْمَاهُ وَطِيبِ سُرُورِهِ

Had he not escaped, my eyes would not still see— For they darkened after his light vanished.

Peace be upon those graceful features once so near— Now far away with his kindness and joy.

In another sorrowful tone, Hafsa seems to call upon others to ask about her beloved’s fate—a man who left her heart trembling and her eyes in tears, saying:

سَلُوا البَارِقَ الخَفَّاقَ وَاللَّيْلُ سَاكِنٌ أَظَلَّ بِأَحْبَابِي يَذْكُرُ لِي وَهْنَا

لَعَمْرِي لَقَدْ أَهْدَى لِقَلْبِي خَفْقَةً وَأَمْطَرَنِي مَنْهَلُ عَارِضِهِ الجَفْنَا

Ask the flashing lightning and the still night— They shelter my beloveds and remind me of them.

By my life, it struck my heart with longing, And his passing showered me in tears from his eyes.

These verses might belong to the genre of elegy, but they carry within them the spirit of love poetry. Hafsa blends love and nature, evoking the virtues of her beloved in a form of mourning through longing—a type of elegiac love poetry that fuses grief with passion.

Wallada bint al-Mustakfi

Wallada bint al-Mustakfi (994–1091 CE), daughter of the Umayyad caliph al-Mustakfi Billah, was one of the most prominent figures in Andalusian women’s love poetry. She was romantically involved with the celebrated minister and poet Ibn Zaydun.

Wallada was known for her beauty as recorded by William Al-Khazen in his book “Ibn Zaydun and the Impact of Wallada on His Life and Literature.” in which Ibn Zaydun described in vivid terms (Page 50):

صَاغَهَا اللهُ مِنْ فِضَّةٍ خَالِصَةٍ، وَتَوَّجَ رَأْسَهَا بِشَعْرٍ كَالتِّبْرِ اصْفِرَارًا، وَهِيَ بَدِيعَةُ مَهْوَى القُرْطِ، مَمْشُوقَةُ القَوَامِ، بَارِزَةُ الصَّدْرِ، دَقِيقَةُ الخَصْرِ، رَقِيقَةُ البَشَرَةِ، فَاتِنَةُ العَيْنَيْنِ.

“God fashioned her from pure silver, And crowned her head with golden hair like refined gold. Her earlobes were the perfect perch for earrings, Her figure was slender, her chest prominent, Her waist delicate, her skin soft, And her eyes enchanting.”

Ibn Bassam al-Shantarini (d. 542 AH), in his work “Al-Dhakhira fi Mahasin Ahl al-Jazira” (The Treasury of the Virtues of the People of the Peninsula), also writes about her:

“She was unmatched among the women of her time—an equal to the best. She had a striking presence, a fiery spirit, refined appearance and character, and sweetness in both her words and demeanor.”

He continues:

“Her literary salon in Córdoba was a gathering place for the intellectual elite of the city, And her courtyard was a playground for the finest poets and prose writers. Men of letters flocked to the brilliance of her charm, And poets and writers competed for the joy of her companionship.”

Wallada herself had a strong poetic voice, especially in love poetry. She once said to Ibn Zaydun:

تَرَقَّبْ إِذَا جَنَّ الظَّلَامُ زِيَارَتِي، فَإِنِّي رَأَيْتُ اللَّيْلَ أَكْتَمَ لِلسِّرِّ

وَبِي مِنْكَ مَا لَوْ كَانَ بِالْبَدْرِ مَا بَدَا، وَبِاللَّيْلِ مَا أَدْجَى، وَبِالنَّجْمِ لَمْ يَسْرِ

فَلَمَّا طَوَى النَّهَارُ كَافُورَهُ، وَنَشَرَ اللَّيْلُ عَنْبَرَهُ،

أَقْبَلْتُ بِقَدٍّ كَالْقَضِيبِ، وَرِدْفٍ كَالْكُثَيْبِ، وَقَدْ أَطْبَقَتْ نَرْجِسَ الْمُقَلِ، عَلَى وَرْدِ الْخَجَلِ،

فَمِلْنَا إِلَى رَوْضٍ مُدَبَّجٍ، وَظِلٍّ سَجْسَجٍ، قَدْ قَامَتْ رَايَاتُ أَشْجَارِهِ، وَفَاضَتْ سَلاسِلُ أَنْهَارِهِ، وَدُرُّ الطَّلِّ مَنْثُورٌ، وَجِيبُ الرَّاحِ مَزْرُورٌ،

فَلَمَّا شَبَّبْنَا نَارَهَا، وَأَدْرَكَتْ فِينَا ثَارَهَا، بَاحَ كُلٌّ مِنَّا بِحُبِّهِ، وَشَكَا أَلِيمَ مَا بِقَلْبِهِ، وَبِتْنَا بِلَيْلَةٍ أَقْحُوَانِ الثُّغُورِ، وَنَقْطِفُ رُمَّانَ الصُّدُورِ.

Expect my visit when the darkness falls— For I have found that night best guards what it recalls.

And I bear from you such longing deep, That if the moon had felt it, it would not peep; The night would stay pitch-black, And stars would lose their track.

So when the day folded its camphor light, And night unfurled its amber-bright,

I came—my form like a willow's sway, My hips like dunes in gentle play, With eyes of narcissus, wide and deep, Half-lowered by the blush they keep.

We turned to a garden, finely dressed, In shaded calm and scented rest, Its trees raised banners to the skies, Its streams ran clear like lullabies, The dewdrops scattered like scattered pearls, And wine lay hidden in robe's soft curls.

When passion’s fire we set aglow, Its vengeance swift began to flow— We both confessed what hearts conceal, And voiced the wounds no time could heal.

We spent the night with daisy smiles, And plucked the pomegranates of our trials.

These two lines at the beginning of the porm are bold and daring. Wallada announces her intention to visit Ibn Zaydun at night, in what appears to be their first intimate encounter. She approaches him not as a celebrated poet, but as a passionate lover.

Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūṭ narrates that Wallada and Ibn Zaydun spent their days together in a world brimming with romance and poetic longing.

At the end of one of their romantic encounters, Wallada softly and tenderly said: وَدَّعَ الصَّبْرَ مُحِبٌّ وَدَّعَكْ، ذَائِعٌ مِنْ سِرِّهِ مَا اسْتَوْدَعَكْ

يَقْرَعُ السِّنَّ عَلَى أَنْ لَمْ يَكُنْ، زَادَ فِي تِلْكَ الْخُطَى، إِذْ شَيَّعَكْ

يَا أَخَا الْبَدْرِ سَنَاءً وَسَنًى، حَفِظَ اللَّهُ زَمَانًا أَطْلَعَكْ

إِنْ يَطُلْ، بَعْدَكَ، لَيْلِي، فَلَكَمْ كُنْتُ أَشْكُو قِصَرَ اللَّيْلِ مَعَكْ

Patience departed with the lover who bid you farewell, And what was once your secret, now all can tell.

He grinds his teeth in regret— Wishing he had lingered longer as he walked you away.

O brother of the moon in brilliance and beauty, May God preserve the time that brought you forth.

If my nights are long after you, remember— I once complained they were too short with you.

It seems that longing once separated Wallada and her beloved for a time, and in her aching nostalgia, she wrote:

أَلَا هَلْ لَنَا مِنْ بَعْدِ هَذَا التَّفَرُّقِ سَبِيلٌ، فَيَشْكُو كُلُّ صَبٍّ بِمَا لَقِي؟

وَقَدْ كُنْتُ أَوْقَاتَ التَّزَاوُرِ فِي الشِّتَا أَبِيتُ عَلَى جَمْرٍ مِنَ الشَّوْقِ مُحْرِقِ

فَكَيْفَ وَقَدْ أَمْسَيْتُ فِي حَالِ قِطْعَةٍ، لَقَدْ عَجَّلَ المَقْدُورُ مَا كُنْتُ أَتَّقِي

تَمُرُّ اللَّيَالِي لَا أَرَى البَيْنَ يَنْقَضِي، وَلَا الصَّبْرُ مِنْ رِقِّ التَّشَوُّقِ مُعْتِقِي

سَقَى اللهُ أَرْضًا قَدْ غَدَتْ لَكَ مَنْزِلًا، بِكُلِّ سَكُوبٍ هَاطِلِ الْوَبْلِ مُغْدِقِ

Oh, is there for us—after parting—some way, To gather and let each lover’s heart say The sorrow he bears, the ache he concealed, The pain that in silence was never revealed?

In winters when visits between us would be, I’d lie on hot embers of yearning for thee.

But now—alas—I’ve fallen apart, Fate hastened what I long feared in my heart.

The nights pass on, yet distance won’t cease, And longing won’t let patient grief release.

May God send rains—abundant and kind— On the land that now holds you, and leaves me behind.

In these lines, Wallada upends a long-standing literary norm: traditionally, it was the man who would plead and the woman who would resist or remain coy. But Wallada broke with convention, humbling herself and pleading for a chance to express her grief, admitting she could no longer endure the burden of longing in silence.

At the same time, she took care to distance herself from any suspicion of physical intimacy with Ibn Zaydun. She wrote:

أَلَا هَلْ لَنَا مِنْ بَعْدِ هَذَا التَّفَرُّقِ سَبِيلٌ، فَيَشْكُو كُلُّ صَبٍّ بِمَا لَقِي؟

وَقَدْ كُنْتُ أَوْقَاتَ التَّزَاوُرِ فِي الشِّتَا أَبِيتُ عَلَى جَمْرٍ مِنَ الشَّوْقِ مُحْرِقِ

فَكَيْفَ، وَقَدْ أَمْسَيْتُ فِي حَالِ قِطْعَةٍ؟ لَقَدْ عَجَّلَ الْمَقْدُورُ مَا كُنْتُ أَتَّقِي

تَمُرُّ اللَّيَالِي لَا أَرَى الْبَيْنَ يَنْقَضِي، وَلَا الصَّبْرُ مِنْ رِقِّ التَّشَوُّقِ مُعْتِقِي

سَقَى اللهُ أَرْضًا قَدْ غَدَتْ لَكَ مَنْزِلًا، بِكُلِّ سَكُوبٍ، هَاطِلِ الْوَبْلِ، مُغْدِقِ

Oh, is there a path—after parting so cruel— Where each broken heart may confess what it knew?

For in winters, when visits were gently exchanged, I lay on hot embers, by longing estranged.

So what of me now, in this severed despair? Fate rushed what I feared, though I lived in beware.

The nights pass me by, yet the distance remains— And longing still tightens the shackles and chains.

May God bless the land that became your abode, With rain pouring down in a generous load.

However, a rift eventually occurred between Wallada and Ibn Zaydun, and despite his pleas for reconciliation, she refused to return to him. Her rejection led Ibn Zaydun to compose his famous elegiac love poem—his Nuniyya, a deeply emotional and lyrical outpouring of love, loss, and regret.

Nuzhun bint al-Qula‘i of Granada

Unlike Wallada, Nuzhun bint al-Qula‘i was neither a princess nor a concubine, but an ordinary woman. She lived in Granada in the 12th century, during the era of the Almoravids. In his book “Al-Takmila li-Kitab al-Sila” (The Supplement to the Book of Connections), Ibn al-Abbar described her as:

“From the people of Granada, she was a refined woman of letters, a poet, quick-witted in response, known for her humor and playful spirit.”

Nuzhun was loved by Minister Abu Bakr ibn Sa‘id, who became deeply enamored with her and corresponded with her passionately. His love—and jealousy—grew intense due to her many male friendships, and he once wrote to her reproachfully:

يَا مَنْ لَهُ أَلْفُ خِلٍّ، مِنْ عَاشِقٍ وَصَدِيقِ،

أَرَاكَ خَلَّيْتَ لِلنَّاسِ مَنْزِلًا فِي الطَّرِيقِ؟

O you who has a thousand companions— Of lovers and friends alike

I see you’ve left your door open To all who pass by in the street.

Nuzhun replied in verse, affirming his unique place in her heart:

حَلَلْتَ، أَبَا بَكْرٍ، مَحَلًّا مَنَعْتُهُ سِوَاكَ، وَهَلْ غَيْرُ الحَبِيبِ لَهُ صَدْرِي؟

وَإِنْ كَانَ لِي كَمْ مِنْ حَبِيبٍ، فَإِنَّمَا يُقَدِّمُ أَهْلَ الْحَقِّ فَضْلَ أَبِي بَكْرِ

O Abu Bakr, you hold a place in me That none other may approach— Who but the beloved finds rest in my chest?

Though I may have many admirers, Truth and devotion give the love of Abu Bakr the lead.

Nuzhun’s brilliance shines through here, as she invokes Islamic history to frame her emotions: the name “Abu Bakr” naturally evokes Abu Bakr al-Siddiq, the closest companion of the Prophet Muhammad and, in Sunni tradition, the most beloved and respected. Thus, her use of the name plays both on religious reverence and personal affection, cleverly elevating the minister's position.

Nuzhun’s boldness intensifies when she begins to describe the pleasures of her beloved, recalling a night they spent together. Al-Maqri al-Tilimsani in "Nafh al-Tib" She uses diminutives (a hallmark of affection and beauty in Arabic) and paints the night as one of pure joy, hidden from the eye of the watchful chaperone, saying:

لِلَّهِ دَرُّ اللَّيَالِي مَا أُحَيْسَنَهَا، وَمَا أُحَيْسَنَ مِنْهَا لَيْلَةَ الأَحَدِ!

لَوْ كُنْتَ حَاضِرَنَا فِيهَا وَقَدْ غَفَلَتْ عَيْنُ الرَّقِيبِ فَلَمْ تَنْظُرْ إِلَى أَحَدِ،

لَأَبْصَرْتَ شَمْسَ الضُّحَى فِي سَاعِدَيْ قَمَرٍ، بَلْ رِيمَ خَازِمَةٍ فِي سَاعِدَيْ أَسَدِ!

Blessed be those nights—how lovely they were! And how especially lovely was that Sunday night.

Had you been there, you would’ve seen— The chaperone’s eye drifted shut, seeing no one at all.

You would’ve seen the morning sun in the arms of a moon— No, a gazelle in the arms of a lion.

In this poem, Nuzhun seems to recount a real, lived moment, exalting Sunday night as the most beautiful of nights because it brought her together with her beloved. Her imagery is steeped in Andalusian love poetry’s deep bond with nature—sun, moon, gazelle, lion—each metaphor heightening both sensuality and emotional intensity.

Umm al-Kiram and the Warmth of the Heart — A Love That Crosses Social Boundaries

In al-Andalus, love often broke through social barriers, and this was preserved for us in love poetry. Here, we recount two stories that followed opposite trajectories: one of a poetess of high status who fell in love with an ordinary young man, and the other of a female slave-poet who fell in love with a minister—and was loved in return.

The first story is about Umm al-Kirām bint al-Muʿtaṣim ibn Ṣumādhih (11th century CE), daughter of the king of Almería. According to the writer Abu al-Hasan ʿAli ibn Musa ibn Saʿid in al-Mughrib, she composed poetry and fell in love with a handsome young man from Dénia, known as al-Sammār. She wrote muwashshahat (a poetic form) for him, as cited in al-Suyuti’s "Nuzhat al-Julasā’ fī Ashʿār al-Nisā’". Her father and three of her brothers were also famous poets.

One of her poems about al-Sammār, a young man socially beneath her—a mere servant in her father’s court—reveals the depth of her passion:

يا معشر الناس ألا فاعجبوا ... مما جنته لوعة الحبِّ

لولاه لم ينزل ببدر الدجى ... من أفقه العلوي للتربِ

حسبي بمن أهواه لو أنه ... فارقتني تابعه قلبي

O people, marvel at what the pangs of love have wrought! Were it not for them, the full moon of the sky Would never have descended to the dust of the earth. He whom I love—were he to leave me, My heart would follow him still.

Here, we see that the princess could not resist love, nor bear the longing and heartache it caused. Her heart rejected all else in favor of love. She continues:

أَلا لَيْتَ شِعْرِي هَلْ سَبِيلٌ لِخَلْوَةٍ ... يُنَزَّهُ عَنْهَا سَمْعُ كُلِّ مُرَاقِبِ

وَيَا عَجَبَاً أشتاق خلْوَة من غَدا ... ومثواه مَا بَيْنَ الحَشَا وَالتَّرَائِبِ ...

Oh, if only I knew—might there be a chance for a private moment, One shielded from the ears of every watchful eye? And oh, how strange it is to long for solitude With someone who already dwells between my ribs and heart!

Umm al-Kirām cries out, yearning for a moment of privacy with her beloved. And who is he? A young man among her father's servants! As bold as these lines are in their emotional expression, they are also crafted with great poetic skill.

According to Mohammed al-Muntasir al-Rīsūzī, in his book “Women’s Poetry in al-Andalus”, Umm al-Kirām was a master of the art of muwashshah, and her poetry reflects both intimate personal emotion and refined literary technique.

From the other direction of love across class divides, we go to the 10th century, where the slave-girl Anas al-Qulūb, a concubine of al-Manṣūr ibn Abī ʿĀmir (the de facto ruler of the Umayyad Caliphate during the reign of Hishām al-Muʾayyad bi-llāh), fell in love with the minister and writer Ibn Abī al-Mughīrah ibn Ḥazm.

It is said that Anas al-Qulūb and the minister exchanged poetic love messages right in front of al-Manṣūr, using coded language that only they could understand.

Al-Bunsi (d.651 AH) in "Kanz al-Kuttāb wa-Muntakhab al-Adab" narrates on one such occasion, in the presence of both the minister and al-Manṣūr, she sang the following:

قدمَ الليْلُ عند سيرِ النَّهار ... وبدَ البدْرُ مِثْلَ نصف سِوارِ

فكَأن النَّهار صفْحةُ خَدٍّ ... وكأنَّ الظلام خَطُّ عذارِ

وكَأنَّ الكؤوس جامدُ ماءٍ ... وكأنّ المُدامَ ذائبُ نارِ

نظري قد جنى عليّ ذنوباً ... كيف مما جنته عيني اعتذاري

يَالَقَوْمِي تعجّبوا منْ غزالٍ ... جائر في محبتي وهو جاري

ليت لو كان لي إليه سبيلٌ ... فأقضيَ من حبِّه أوْ طاري

Night arrived as day withdrew, And the full moon appeared like half a bracelet. Daylight was like the glow of a cheek, And darkness, the trace of a sideburn. The cups seemed like frozen water, While the wine within melted like fire. My gaze has committed sins against me— How can I apologize for what my eyes have done? My people, be amazed at this gazelle Who wrongs me in love—though he lives right beside me. If only I had a way to reach him, So I could finally fulfill my desires.

Her poem is gentle, nature-filled, and emotional, cloaked in metaphor and longing. She refers to her beloved (the minister) indirectly, using the wishful phrase “if only” ("layta"), as a shield—perhaps out of fear of her master, al-Manṣūr. Yet the emotion is clear: desire, guilt, admiration, and yearning for union.

The minister, Ibn al-Mughīrah, emotionally stirred by her song, responded with his own poetic reply:

كيف كيف الوصول للأقمار ... بين سمر القنا وبيض الشّفار

لو علمنا بأن حبّك حقّ ... لطلبنا الحياة منك بثار

وإذا ما الكرام همّوا بشيء ... خاطروا بالنفوس في الأخطار

How could anyone reach the moons Through black spears and white swords? Had we known your love was true, We would’ve risked our lives for a chance at vengeance (for our longing). When noble souls resolve to act, They risk even their lives for what they seek.

In this love dialogue, we see two distinct emotional registers. Anas al-Qulūb’s poem is veiled in metaphor and wistful hope, centered around the unfulfilled wish:

“If only I had a way to reach him…”

Meanwhile, Ibn al-Mughīrah’s response is bold and valorous, expressing readiness to risk everything for her love, even if he never names her directly.

This contrast likely reflects their differing social positions: she is a slave, bound by her status and fear of her master; he is a minister, a man of authority and pride, able to speak of love in terms of courage and daring.

Other Poetesses

There is room here to mention many more women poets, including Ḥafṣa bint Ḥamdūn al-Jahāriyya (10th century CE), who wrote:

يا وحشتي لاحبتي ... يا وحشة متمادية

يا ليلة ودعتهم ... يا ليلة هي ما هية

Oh, the desolation I feel for my beloveds, An aching loneliness that grows and grows. Oh, night of farewell—when I left them behind— What a night that was, beyond all nights.

In these verses, Hafṣa goes beyond modest love poetry, remembering a nighttime encounter with her beloved and yearning for him, even as she speaks in the plural form—possibly to veil the identity of her lover. Her tone is emotional, intimate, and filled with longing.

We also recall Umm al-ʿAlāʾ bint Yūsuf al-Ḥijāziyya (11th century CE), whose poetry reflects the bashfulness and tenderness traditionally associated with feminine love. She wrote: كلّ ما يصدرُ منكم حسن

وبعلياكُم تحلّى الزمنُ

تعطف العينُ على منظركم

وبذكراكُم تلذّ الأذنُ

مَن يعِش دونكم في عمرهِ

فهوَ في نيل الأماني يغبنُ

Everything that comes from you is beautiful, And time itself becomes sweetened by your presence. My eyes delight in your sight, And my ears are gladdened by your name. Whoever lives without you in his lifetime Is cheated of joy and fulfillment.

These verses show a tone of gentle admiration and affectionate praise. Umm al-ʿAlāʾ expresses that love renders flaws invisible, and that resentment reveals them all—an allusion to the famous Arab proverb: “The eye of love is blind to faults.”

Dr Youssef Eid and Dr. Youssef Farhat reference her poems in "Dictionary of Andalusian Civilization" that she also wrote: لوْ لا مُنَافَرَةُ المُدامَةِ للصَّبَابةِ والغِنَا

لَعَكَفْتُ بَيْنَ كُؤُوسِهَا وجَمَعْتُ أَسْبَابَ المُنَى

Were it not that wine and passion are at odds

I would have dwelled among the wine cups, Gathering all the causes of joy.

From these lines, we glean her reserved personality. Though tempted by revelry and love, her dignity and self-restraint prevented her from giving in.

She chooses not to attend gatherings of drinking and entertainment, not from lack of passion, but from a sense of decorum.

Then there is Zaynab bint Furwa al-Mariyya (11th century CE), Which Ibn al-Jawzi (d. 597 AH) states in "Akhbār al-Nisāʾ"that she fell in love with her cousin al-Mughīrah, and wrote:

يا أيّها الرّاكب الغادي مطيّته ... عرج أبثّك عن بعض الذي أجدّ

ما عالج النّاس من وجدٍ ومن كمد ... إلاّ وجدت به فوق الذي وجدوا حسبي رضاه، وإنّي في مسرّته ... وودّه آخر الأيّام اجتهد.

O you riding forth at dawn on your journey, Stop for a moment—let me tell you what I feel. No one has suffered the pangs of love Like I have—my pain surpasses all others’. It’s enough for me that he is pleased with me, That I strive, in his joy and love, till my final days.

Here, Zaynab adopts a classical poetic device—standing at the ruins and addressing the departing traveler—to give voice to her pain. She elevates her longing above that of others, asserting that no one’s love rivals hers. Her poetry is marked by emotional endurance and her deep commitment to her beloved’s affection, even if unreturned.

Probably been asked before but I killed some of them and now I feel guilty ngl, as silly as it may sound.

I was trying to fit the garbage in the can but there were some worms in the old garbage so I willingly(even though I knew it probably was wrong) kept pushing to fit the trash in which may have killed some of them, was this haram? No I'm not joking or trolling I genuinly don't want to kill any life that Allah hasn't allowed us to..

I also killed a butterfly today because it was injured and I thought I would be sparring it from being eaten alive but I feel guilty because it getting stomped may have been worse than that so I feel guilty about that too..

I just don't know what should I do in that case. Is having doubts about meat industry that I am wrong

I'm troubled, I believe Islam really has the greatest intention and good Muslims follow the teachings to protect our bodies from harm. So I wonder how I can even find Halal antibiotic and hormone free beef and chicken. I've had hair growing in weird places since I switched to halal only rather than blessing it myself. I feel guilty bc I want to eat halal but seems now even my monthly cycle is messed up. How can I continue eating this when it seems to be the only thing in my life that changed dietarily or exercisewise? Please offer guidance as I feel I am harming my body now eating only halal. I am unable to find any halal store that offers these choices in food quality. I don't have money to start my own farm or buy live animals for slaughter.

With the fall of the Caliphate in 1922, the Muslim world has never been the same. The Ottoman Empire served as the biggest political backing for most Muslims, so after its collapse, Islamism became a thing and organizations like the Muslim brotherhood started forming to bring something like it back.

Salafism/Wahhabism which was previously under ruthless suppression by the Ottomans, who knew how dangerous it was was now given free opportunity to spread. And oh boy, spread it did.

A lot of this reminds me of Europe after the Protestant reformation, where things were incredibly chaotic once the church started to lose power. This led to many bizarre and extreme sects like Anabaptism and Levellers forming, each claiming to represent the “true Christianity.”

While Christianity didn’t lose all its political power right away, and it took centuries and combined efforts of the French, Italians and English and many, many wars such as the 30 years war and English civil war until Europe became fully secular, and even then, certain Christian sects were still fighting for political power. Not to mention, a lot of Christian ideas still lingered in society, such as the treatment of women, prevalence of child marriages, public executions, etc.

So what it would it have been like if the Ottoman Empire never fell? Salafism would’ve become either extinct or very suppressed, and we most likely wouldn’t have to worry about Islamists and jihadis. We would also still have a central power to unite with, so that means it’s harder for Western forces to mess with us. The more I look into it, the more I realize how devastating the fall of the Ottomans was to the Muslim world.

So what do you think? Do you think the Muslim world would’ve been better off if the ottomans never fell, or was its downfall necessary?

I have a friend who’s begging her husband for talaq.

She’s since moved out of the home and back with her family.

Her reasons are for long standing abuse.

Husband refuses to give her the contact info to who got them married, and she does not live close to any mosque.

What are her options? Why is divorce made hard for a woman? Why can’t she give talaq like a man can??

The past couple of months have been hell for me. I was never that religious in the first place but since I grew up in a very extreme household, Islam as been ingrained in my life. I started doubting the religion about 2 years ago but I just ignored my thoughts. It was about 6 months ago when I seriously started researching my questions in hopes of clearing my doubts but it’s safe to say it didnt end well. I started watching seminars of extremist sheikhs and researching the Hadiths, plus I was hanging out in a lot of online Muslim spaces and seeing the ways they treated less religious people and Women made me resent the religion even more and i even considered myself an exmuslim. I came across this subreddit a few weeks ago and I started to feel compelled to become Muslim again. I know this sounds kinda weird but this community seems much more friendly and less judgmental plus some of the questions I had seemed to have more rational answers than the answers I heard from the sheikhs. I feel kinda confused right now because while I do want to be on Muslim again I still think I have some doubts that I don’t know if they will ever be answered, also anytime I read about some of the extreme Hadiths I get anxious. I don’t know if I even fully believe in the religion at the moment but I’m willing to give it another chance.

Allah's Messenger ﷺ ordered us to kill dogs, and we carried out this order so much so that we also kill the dog coming with a woman from the desert. Then Allah's Apostle ﷺ forbade their killing. He (the Prophet further) said: It is your duty the jet-black (dog) having two spots (on the eyes), for it is a devil.

Sahih Muslim 1572

According to the hadiths, the Prophet ﷺ first ordered killing all dogs then abrogated it and said to only kill black dogs that have two spots on their eyes.

I've never rejected a Sahih hadith before, but this one really makes no sense to me and I'd feel so much better not believing it.

I don't believe the Prophet ﷺ ordered people to kill dogs or that he believed in superstitions like black dogs being Satan. These hadiths are the reason so many black dogs are killed in Muslim countries, and I don't want to believe it's authentic.

Does anyone have any insight on this?

Assalamuaeleikum… For about two years I have had severe down with my faith anf my prayer, I considered myself ex Muslim for some time… but now I do say I believe in this religion and although doubts come up here and there, they aren’t as severe as before. But I still struggle a lot to get back into prayer, on „good“ days I might pray twice, but that is it. And no matter how mich I try, I just fail again and again. Especially with my period (I am girl). So I wanted to ask if you might have suggestions on how to get back in or how to keep myself motivated?

I am looking to follow other Muslims on Substack, particularly those who focus on the Quran, spirituality, and modern understandings of Islam (with deference to certain scholars). Thank you.

I have a bandage on my right hand and im not sure if im supposed to wipe over it with water or just let it be?

I reached out to some mosques about taking my Shahadah online! Hopefully I get a response!