The prophet of Allah looked down at the grave
Of one who had once been a difficult slave,
He prayed for the soul and then sat on the ground
And planted upon it a sapling he found;
Then pressing his noblest of hands in the earth,
He served his companions a word of good worth:
How well does the tasbeeh of one little plant
Bring peace to a soul in a way the soul can’t!
These words are more precious than they seem to be,
They’re words of a lofty, ingenious Nabi,
So think, for they tell you much more than you think:
The thirst of a seeker survives the first drink.
If what does take root and smiles up at the sun
And sways in the breeze when a shower is done
Can widen the straits of the one in his grave,
Each rustling SubhanAllah helping the slave,
Then how much more worthy the tasbeeh of one
Who speaks and beseeches and weeps in the sun
And seeks a forgiveness for himself before
He seeks a forgiveness for them at the door!
So hear what the Messenger wants us to know,
He spoke for companions who knew he spoke so
And those who his legacy guard and protect,
Bequeathing us treasures that we might reflect.