Sparrow on Prophet's Tomb (saws)

Abdal Hayy Moore
 

O SPARROW
perched on a corner
of the Prophet's tomb;cheeping above thousands of bowed heads murmuring,
whose glassy chirps
hit high notes of purity
under the eaves
in this Mosque of God's Messenger that resides
in two territories of space —
this world seen,
the next world unseen —
in this shadow existence
of his signal presence
among us, visitors from even farther away than China
pass by to greet him, and in your little feathered body
is the swooping freedom
to come and go all day
to visit him;
speeding from a tall beam
across choruses of hearts
gratefully weeping or
tranquil with an ecstatic
inner moonrise
just to be here.

2
Sparrow, what is your name? Is it "Constant Devotion?"
Is it "I want to be near?" "Praiseworthy Friend?"
Is your name
"Generations To Come?"
You fluff your breast and preen your wing
where men cannot go,
you dart into the
dark of the tomb for deeper conversation.
We would all go with you
if we could,
squeeze our tiny feathery bodies through the
gold grille-work, past the
guards in their pea green uniforms,
to sit on a corner of the Prophet's tomb in the
dark to hear him
return the salutations of
such outpouring awed adorations of men and women,
each one
passing by that undying presence, trying to
sneak a peak through the golden porthole,
hearts boiling with
overwhelming emotions.
You land and sing.
You cock your head.
You watch us from your high perch with a cool eye.

3

Sparrow, you are more than a sparrow.
You are a continent of sparrows.
You are The Minister of Internal Affairs of all sparrows.
You are the song that laces the margins
of the deep message,
the message ofGod's Magnificence, the
Thunder of Tremendous Shock, Earthquake and
heaven crash of the
Stark Glare of God's Might.
You trill and fly,
your song like a tiny tune from paradise,
delicate celesta of celestial light.
The mosque in Medina expands
all the way to the
ends of the earth.
Forget about walls, where
marble pillars mark
the mosque's original dimensions,
the Prophet's precincts now
encompass our houses and the invisible courtyards of our
love,
interconnected
by sparrow-song, perched on a Turkish cornice,
singing to Timbouctou,
Medina song birdheard
around theworld!
Jannah

Recited at NFIE Mawlid