We are a warm spell
that comes in a relentless winter.
We are the sun, with all the different kinds of light. We are wind.
Doves when they call coo, where,
are looking for us.
Nightingales and parrots change their perches
hoping to be nearer to us.
Word of us reached the fish. They swerved and leapt.
Waves from that stirring keep coming in. The soul has been given its own ears to hear things
that the mind does not understand.
In the great spirit world Muhammad’s name
is called with his four friends, Abu Bakr, Omar, Uthman, and Ali.
Those are our names too. We have come out of slavery with bales of sugarcane. No need to mention Egypt.
The sweetness of how we talk together
is what we crush and bring the world.