A year had passed, but not a drop
Of rain had fallen down upon
The land of Makkah, and its crop
Did suffer. And its men were drawn
Toward their kind and noble chief,
Abu Talib, the Hashimi,
Whose charge it was to bring relief
To his ailing community.
He sat upon the dusty ground,
And listened till their tales were done,
Then gathered all the children ’round;
And when he saw his brother’s son,
Abu Talib let out a cry
Of pure, uninhibited joy,
To see the apple of his eye:
Abdullah’s one and only boy.
He held the child close to his breast
Then stood him ‘gainst the Kaaba wall
And gently proffered his request
To pray to God for rain to fall.
Muhammad raised his handsome face
And as he closed his blessed eyes,
He supplicated God with grace,
His heart beyond the cloudless skies.
Then in that moment, Mikail
Released the long-withheld decree,
And angel crowds rushed down to feel
The light of higher company.
A drop upon Muhammad’s cheek,
Then silence, as the heavens turned,
To rain upon a people weak
The mercy that their son had earned.
And thus the much awaited rains
Revived the Makkan hearts and crop.
I’d equal all the rains with tears
For something of that foremost drop.
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