i was not a part of history – as was the browning leaf that rode the wind
into the bleeding battle fields, bolstered by the cries of fighting men,
i remember not the golden age, the years of trade; those days of peace,
I do not recall the followers, the travelers, those that caught the words
resonating, captivating passersby [but they were never meant to be as such],
and unsettling gluttonous kings and corrupted men.
I felt not the loss of dear friends, all of them martyrs, those mothers, brothers, daughters, sons.
I did not place the cloth over them; too short to cover both head and feet.
I did not stand with the mighty as they prostrated to Allah.
Vulnerable in the night, suddenly turned small.
I did not see them, those immaculate servants.
One whose wings filled the sky, and yet walked into a sacred house.
i was not of those who witnessed his, Salalahu Alayhi Wa Salam, passing,
but I am of those who mourn his loss, left us in a Quiet.
I am of those who, though so far removed from the age,
fear the day a trumpet is blown and all is uncovered.
All is shown.