By The first call to prayer was said 1400 years ago
The first call to prayer was said by Bilal
Once enslaved, now a free
Black man
This is his story
You were born into slavery
To a master who worshiped idols
One day you heard of a man
Who taught that every human was equal in God’s eyes
His God did not see slave and master
But rather faithful and faithless
——–
You looked to the stone idol you had paid for all your life
The statue and your master were the same
When the stone found out that you had converted to Islam
They lay you on hot coals
Chained you to the desert
Lay burning stones on your chest
Dragged you into the streets
Kicked you
Whipped you
Beat you
The stone wanted you to repent
But All you kept repeating was Ahad (Allah is one)
——–
You were freed by Prophet Muhammed (SAW) himself
As a free man, you built your own home
You treated everyone with the dignity and respect that you had never received
You were Prophet Muhammad’s (SAW) closest companion
When Prophet Muhammed (SAW) took to Mecca, you were fighting by his side
You broke the idols inside and cleaned the Kaaba of stone
When it was time for the morning prayer
Prophet Muhammad (SAW) asked you to make the first call to prayer
So you climbed onto the Kaaba
And called people to prayer
——–
Your voice echoed through Mecca
Some judged you for having a lisp
Some judged you for your past
But God would not let the sun rise until you said the call to prayer
It was your voice reminding everyone of who provides for them
It is your voice that still echoes in Mecca today
——–
What an honor it is for generation after generation of the call to prayer being said after you
Ringing in every mosque, five times a day, every day, every year
The shadow of your voice carrying each Imam’s voice within it
The tradition you began of reminding us now is the time to pray
Now is the time to submit
Now is the time to be faithful
Now is the time for all of us to humble ourselves
Gather together
Face Mecca
We are all equal in God’s eyes
——–
Your story; remembered and honored by 1.7 billion people
But erased from our history textbooks by pale stone hands
The stones couldn’t take knowing just how powerful you were
Your story was silenced by jealous stone people
They were ashamed of their own history
They were afraid to even mention your name
They knew your story would start a revolution
So they tried to keep you on the sidelines
In the margins of books
In the footnotes
——–
But Bilal dismantled each stone brick by brick
It’s no wonder your name is a ghost inside of our textbooks
After all, stones don’t like talking about being crushed
——–
This is your story;
A boy was born in the desert
He became a man when he found water
There has been water in the desert ever since
His name is Bilal
His voice still echoes in my ears today.