Assalamu ‘alaikum. I wrote this article when I was sixteen years old. Since then, my views of things, especially in regards to Islam, have changed and developed. [I’m not really even sure what this poem… means]

I wrote this poem in 5 minutes, without editing, during a ‘guided free-writing’ workshop. Please forgive me if it is substandard, or a bit unstructured. 

Purple silk rolls out from a palace cast in gold,

Kissing the feet of men walking, heads down, towards the cemetery.

I stand outside, on the balcony, lace curtains

Caressing my hair as

Their blood is absorbed, and the soil I once tread on becomes

Purple silk.

The blue sky overhead is moving closer- it wants to eat me alive.

My crimson dress trails behind me, the colour of blood and

Roses. The sky glistens, drapes over my shoulders like a comfortable shawl.

I take myself to the stars, pick them like cherries and place them on my head.

What a queen.

What a cruel, cruel queen

who steps on graves to make herself feel more alive. 

My power lies where nobody can steal it,

They are too busy being distracted by the glimmer of the stars,

They do not see the universe behind my eyes.

There is nothing more worthless than gold,

Nothing more fragile

than the human ego.

My crown rested on my smoothened palms, I look outside.

It is dark and there is nobody there,

Only purple silk

moving with the sound of nobody’s voice.

Sadia Ahmed, 2017


The stars have led us home for centuries,

Governing our lives and evoking fascination and wonder in our eyes.

Man seems to think that he is so powerful, so big, that even the stars look small to him.

Do they glisten for us?

Are they ornamental, like fairy lights,

Aimlessly forming clusters that tell us what tomorrow might have in store for us?

Are they mere tea-light candles whose flames flicker tirelessly in the great garden of this existence?

Welcome to Eden,

Where the skies are always clear

And the stars are near

Enough to distract us, to beautify our skies and capture our lives,

Yet distant enough so as not to burn us.

Welcome to Eden. Now pack your bags and leave.

You were under the impression that the Earth is an apple, weren’t you?

You tried to bite into it with venom lips and jagged teeth.

You left its remains on the floor,

Exposed and disfigured until it turned brown with sorrow

and oxidised with grief.

It’s hard to believe, nowadays, that man used to worship the sun and bow down to the stars.

Now he seems to think that the stars are his servants, and that

They bow down to him.

Sadia Ahmed, 2017



Clouds that are infinite.

There are clouds in my head; they are pregnant with rain.
Monsoon showers that wash away my doubts and rinse me of my insecurities. They moisten the ground, so the seeds become flowers.
They grow into greatness and majesty, into the sky, out of the sky.
The sky.
The empty sea of azure through which we fly. It symbolises hope, uncertainty and infinity.
Clouds. Rain. Flowers. The sky.
You. Me.