King Musa ibn Abu Bakr

 

King Mûsa ibn Abu Bakr

King Mûsa ibn Abu Bakr, with his entourage

having made the rigorous journey across the inhospitable desert 

presented himself one singular morning at the gates of Cairo

his subjects chanting songs of praise

his camels laden with gold.

And King Mûsa displayed his gold and dispensed his gold freely

saying he wanted the great city to know God’s abundance

to see that we are all blessed of God.

And King Musa gave his gold

not just to the court emirs and holders of a royal office

but to shopkeepers, tradesmen, even to those who only push carts

even to those like myself who rely for our sustainment

on the feeling within the hearts of others.

 

Unable to hear or speak

for this I am shunned by many

others call me holy (but I have never made that claim).

I read what men say by careful observation

of their mouths and eyes

and I became greatly interested in King Mûsa’s situation

for it was said many transactions were occurring

in which Mûsa and his attendants were encountering the practiced ways

of the merchants of Cairo

that profits were made out of King Mûsa

in buying and selling and giving and taking

that such an amount of gold was transferred

from the backs of Mûsa’s camels into the purses of the merchants of Cairo

that the value in the great city of gold itself was diminished

and it came to be over a period of weeks that within the cooling walls of the medina

the mention of the name Mûsa was met with knowing looks and sly smiles

and laughter, and he who had been fawned over on his arrival

was openly talked of as a buffoon

now that the utility had been squeezed from him.

 

Often I would station myself across from Mûsa’s camp

and I observed one morning preparations for departure

and it happened Mûsa was nearby

and amid the untethering of animals and striking of tents our eyes met

and he saw in mine I suppose, the admiration for him

I still felt and perhaps from some personal need

he beckoned me to follow

and I rose up to join his caravan

to be of what use I could be

and to learn the fate of King Mûsa.

 

His people said we would return to their land

to replenish the gold that had been lost

they said the number of gold mines in that land cannot be counted.

But as we journeyed, dissatisfaction grew among them

they said Mûsa was not returning to their land

that they knew not where he was leading them

that he refused to say.  They began to desert the caravan

until but a handful remained

and then it was only myself and Mûsa

who rode next to me intent and purposeful, and rarely spoke.

 

Of course the heat of the desert sun is man's curse

and when one day we crested a hill of soft sand

and I saw before us the gleaming ocean in its bright beauty

I rode for it and dismounted and ran making splashes in the water

as children do.  But then Musa passed me by

still mounted on his camel, riding deeper into the sea

into the swelling waves

and I wondered if he meant to drown both himself and the animal

but instead he wheeled round to call to me:

“You are my witness, Holy One!  You must tell them all

all who did not think I would continue on my journey toward God.

You must tell them truly

I would have made it but the waters have not allowed it!”

sweeping his arm in astonishment

at the ocean and its mystifying placement in his path.

Then he fell silent, but now with a satisfied air

that he had made this statement

that he had made it to me

and we parted soon thereafter

he to the south to his people, me to wander more

and I reflected it must be true

we can never know what gods a person imagines there are without

nor the purpose he finds when he looks within.

Reviews

[Ken e Bujold]

I am beginning to see why we are so fond of each other's work. You also like to plum the pages of history for bits of arcane lore to weave into modern tales. This is a beautiful poem Montag, written in a style that is accessible but with a feel of being very ancient. As if a translation from some ancient tablets. Biblical almost. Your management of meter is impressive, a seamless blend of long and shorter lines that keep the reader rolling along through the story. I am curious how long it took you to complete, and what was the original fountain of inspiration for picking up the story to tell us in such detail?
The desert is like the sea, a mythical place that fascinates and terrorizes in equal amounts. I've not really explored the desert to any great extent, yet. Reading this great poem may make me change my mind.
Ken e

[Montag]

Thank you Ken. I agree our interests are sympatico.

The source for this was two stories, or legeneds, in a book called The Golden Rhinoceros, a compilation of documents relating to Africa in the Middle Ages. One quoted the egend of a king who had conquered much land in northern Africa, then "rode his horse into the sea, calling God to witness that he would have continued his path if the continent had extended to the West."

The second was a king who "flooded Cairo with his benefactions" to such an extent that the value of gold was depressed.

I sort of stapled the 2 legends together, employing certain turns of phrase from both.

[Ken e Bujold]

you more than stapled them my friend