Wallada Bint Al-Mustakfi Poem by Mohammad Yousef

By Mohammad A.Yousef

In the heart of Córdoba, where the rivers weave
and the scent of orange blossoms dances on the breeze,
a woman emerges, a spirit uncontained,
Wallada, daughter of the caliph,
born into a world of silk and shadows,
where poets sing and the night is alive
with whispers of love and longing,
where every word is a caress,
and every glance, a promise.

She walks through the gardens,
her head held high, crowned in her own right,
a rebel in a realm of constraints,
where men wield pens like swords,
yet she wields her heart,
a quill dipped in the ink of desire,
her laughter, a melody that breaks the silence,
her voice, a storm that stirs the still air.

Wallada, with her flowing robes,
embroidered with stories,
each stitch a testament to her defiance,
to love unbound, to a spirit unchained,
she opens her door to the poets,
inviting them to share her world,
a haven for the lost and the yearning,
where verses are not merely written
but breathed into life,
and the echoes of her laughter linger
like notes played on a lute,
resonating through the corridors of time.

She loves fiercely,
her heart a tempest,
drawing in the likes of Ibn Zaydun,
whose words are silk,
whose passions ignite the night,
together they dance in the moonlight,
two souls entwined,
yet the world, with its scornful gaze,
seeks to tear them apart,
to bind her to the chains of tradition,
to silence the voice that refuses to be hushed.

But Wallada, oh Wallada,
with eyes like stars and a spirit like fire,
refuses to be dimmed,
she carves her own path through the tapestry of fate,
a tapestry rich with color,
each thread a rebellion,
each knot a story yet to be told.

In the great hall of intellect,
she stands as a beacon,
a lamp against the dark,
her words, a bridge across the chasm,
a path for the brave,
for those who dare to dream
beyond the borders of their time,
to love without limits,
to write without fear.

And though history may seek to forget,
to cast her into the shadows,
her spirit rises,
a phoenix from the ashes,
for in every heart that beats with passion,
in every pen that dares to challenge,
she lives on,
a whisper of rebellion,
a song of freedom,
a testament to love's unyielding power,
and the unquenchable thirst for self.

So let us remember Wallada,
not just as a name in the annals of time,
but as a force,
a reminder that the soul is vast,
and the heart, no cage can contain,
for in her, we find the essence of poetry,
the essence of life—
wild, beautiful, and eternally free.