Springs Gift - Poem by Sh Hamza

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Event Name: Springs Gift - Poem by Sh Hamza
Transcription Date:Transcription Modified Date: 3/29/2019 8:41:05 PM
Transcript Version: 1
Original Reference URL: http://www.docstoc.com/docs/25806680/IQRA-Magazine-Mar-09


Transcript Text

Poetry By Sh Hamza

Spring's Gift - Shaykh Hamza Yusuf

 

I envy the sand that met his feet

I’m jealous of honey he tasted sweet

Of birds that hovered above his head

Of spiders who spun their sacred web

To save him from his enemies

I envy clouds formed from the seas

That gave him cover from the heat

Of a sun whose light could not compete

With his, whose face did shine so bright

That all was clear in blinding night

I envy sightless trees that gazed

Upon his form completely dazed

Not knowing if the sun had risen

But felt themselves in unison

With those who prayed, and fasted too

Simply because he told them to

With truth and kindness, charity

From God who gave such clarity

His mercy comes in one He sent

To mold our hearts more heaven bent

I envy all there at his side

Who watched the turning of the tide

As truth prevailed and falsehood fled

And hope restored life to the dead

Men and Women through him found grace

To seek together God’s noble face

I envy the cup that gave him drink

His thoughts that helped us all to think

To be one thought that passed his mind

Inspiring him to act so kind

For me this world is not one jot

If I could simply be a thought

From him to God throughout the ages

As revelation came in stages

I pity all who think it odd

To hear him say there is one God

Or he was sent by God to men

To hone their spirits’ acumen

It’s pride that blinds us from the sight

That helps good men to see his light

He taught us all to be God’s slaves

And he will be the one who saves

Humanity from sinful pride

Muhammad has God on his side

So on this day be blessed and sing

For he was born to grace our Spring

With lilies, flowers, life’s rebirth

In a dome of green like his on earth

 

 

A Tree Knelt In Praise

 

I know that I shall never see
A poem that bows quite like our tree
A tree who like us loved to pray
In adoration every day

A tree who humbly knelt in praise
To God and never chose to raise
Itself above the other trees
Instead remained as if on knees

A tree who gave our scholars shade
And never asked that it be paid
A tree whose needles never hurt
But gently fell upon the dirt

A tree whose worth cannot be told
Or ever lent or bought with gold
A tree who showed us all its height
With God by bowing with delight

It taught us all to clearly see
A Garden lies beneath a tree
And then it showed us with a sigh
That trees, like us, must also die

In an age of folly, play and mirth
A tree has died with brow on earth

-Hamza Yusuf / March 2005