Fourteen Patches

Scorching heat hassled my feet, as I ambled alongside the beast. A wooden cup, a water bag and parched barley meal for a feast. My shadow exhaled hot fumes on the dry desert sand. Days of prolonged journey, In search of a famous land. Mounted on the highest was a man wearing a lowly thawb With evident fourteen patches, devoid of a pristine robe. He ruled the continents With power and dignity. He owned a little Enough to satisfy the brevity. We took turns to sit on the camel, to relieve ourselves of the toil. One could rest and another hold reins, to guide the beast towards the soil. He beckoned me to stop And climb on top. Holding the reins of the camel’s clop. Approaching the purpose I implored the master. I did not deem right for him to ignore his lustre. “The dignitaries are awaiting the ruler to command them and direct. A meagre slave on the summit Will not give you respect.” He roared and his eyes crimson He told me a reality So easily forgotten “We were humiliated in entirety And Islam gave us honour Shall we then choose this world And push Allah in the corner.” When his feet get muddled, in a blameless puddle. It stumped me more and enhanced my lore. It proved my descent and that of my ruler We are made with clay and will return to it sooner. A sight to behold awaited some, as we marched into the city. Never in history, had they seen A king holding the rope with simplicity. A slave riding the camel Made most men bewildered Tears flowed down relentlessly, As the equality in Islam was remembered. The man with fourteen patches, raised the banner of Islam Centuries later we still remember, his humility and vigorous eemaan. When the difference between The ruler and the slave. Was rendered null by the faithful and brave. (Thawb – Long shirt Eemaan – Belief Allah - God Islam – Submission to the will of Allah)