thank you p 3

How does someone from almost a thousand years ago drive one to the brink of madness and joy...? I brought an 800 yr dead man a basket of tears and he left me with only love and joy.  
I am accustomed to seeing the world with my eyes. But you are revealing to me more and more beloved, that love truly does not die.

http://jamilahammad.com/rumiandshams/conversations.htm

a love confession p 5

They tell you
in so many subtle and discrete ways
that you are not worthy of love, of joy
And after a while, you begin to believe it
and you tell yourself
in so many subtle and discrete ways
that you are not worthy of being loved
of living each moment on the cusp of joy and brink of possibility

Let me remind you dearly beloved
that you are worth more than a sea of diamonds
you are worth so much more than any worldly treasure
Let me remind you dearly beloved
you are worthy of love, of joy, of being loved
copiously and unapologetically.
You are the flowerbed, love is the water
so drink beloved, drink and dance and sing
because we are here for this very purpose.

a love confession p 4

my mouth was broken at birth
i have nothing to offer
save this longing in my chest
for which i would raze my world
just to be with You

confessions p 25

I heard a love story
When I was a child
Or in the womb
Sharing my mother's dreams
And since then
I haven't stopped
Looking for my own.
As with so many stories
There was no beginning.
One day, like any other
I heard a whisper of the unnameable
Breathed in the fumes of its scent
Like water, and it was invisible
But it filled such lungs in me
That I knew nothing in an instant.
And just like that, I was in love
Though I knew not at the time
Because being in love
I couldn't fathom being out of it.
And I don't have the words
Not in a dozen lifetimes
To describe what happens in my chest
When I hear the faintest brush
Of my Beloved's skirts.

***

Soon She will send an army
To taste the color of my blood...
They will assume the shape of my fears
They will wear my face
Speak in my twisted tongue
Words from my own broken mouth.

***

I heard the sounds of Her army
as I was layering on warpaint
expecting a sea of swords
ruthless killers with my eyes
my own words morphing
into indescribable beasts, many-headed dragons
and everything else that dogma
had my mind imagining.
But just before the shadows of my fears
became solid reality
a crepuscular ray broke through the clouds
and what seemed at first a sliver of light
burst through the veil of the sky
It was like seeing the sun for the first time
like stepping out into color
from a cave of black and white shades.
And I saw Her army with eyes
no longer filmed over with veils
and instead of a sea of shields and swords
there were endless rows of roses
petals blossoming over and over
impossibly closer and closer
until they were opening up inside me
opening me up from the inside
opening and opening
and words failed me
there was just that burning longing
white flames licking at the home
I had carved from fear
and I wanted to weep it was so beautiful
but all I could hear were peals of children's laughter

***


(Love does not require bloodshed and empires
To test vows sworn in Her name
But She demands the whole of the heart that speaks them
and that is the greatest battle of all.)

a love confession p. 3

I want to tell you I love you
but I know how easy it is to love from afar
and I want to tell you I love you when the shit hits the fan
when there is nothing to win or lose, nothing left concealed
I want to tell you I love you when there is no distance between us
when proximity has demolished the museum display in my heart
and when those three words are no longer another step
in a ladder leading to some heaven of my imagination.

a love confession p 2

Little by little, and in volcanic eruptions
we drifted apart like continental plates.
Said we loved the sea so we let it come between us.
We followed the flow of the tide with the full moon
tattooed in blood and water on our foreheads.
Agoraphobics, we couldn't fill spaces between us with enough stars
so we blamed proximity, too far, too near, too distant, too dear.
Accused the sun and lunar cycles for the failing of our sight
pointed fingers at the winds and they carried away our excuses
graciously left us in silence to listen to the beating of the heart's sea.

Can you hear them? The waves pleading, raging, roaring, seeping
they spend their lives through storm and salt, ice and vapor
man made pollutants and all manners of filter feeders
looking for something they have never seen
And one day, they find it, crashing upon it to kiss its' shores
before faithfully embarking on the return journey
each hoping they may be worthy of reunion with the ocean's core.

confessions p 24

No.
Not the heavens nor the hells.
No.
Not the words of scripture.
Nor the ideology of man.

I can not explain the endlessness
that taught my knees the speech of the ground.
I know just as these words are only shadows of tears
So too is this reality a mere shadow of the next.

before bed

Now that the day has ended
what do I have to say ?
Have I done all I could?
Have I gotten better at something?
Have I overcome a fear?
Have I tried a different approach to the same problem?
Have I been truthful to myself?
Have I reached out to a friend?
Did I really listen when spoken to?
Did I strive for excellence in some way?
Did I test my boundaries? challenge my perceptions?
Did I train my body, mind or soul?
Did I commit? Did I make a vow or renew an old oath?
Did I keep the word?
Did I pay respects to my parents? the elders or ancestors?
Did I maintain the sacred bond of friendship?
Did I chip away at the mountain on my back?

Heroes

Remember your heroes
Remember their journeys
The upward slopes they navigated to find themselves
Their rites of passage, how they yearned
Remember their blood, their hearts ablaze
As they burned, for something which even they couldn't yet see.
Remember your heroes
Their memory is sacred
They have been pre-sent to you
As roadsigns, maps through which you may discover yourself.

Remembrance is divine.
It is a spiritual goldmine
It is braille for the blind
It is the cover of darkness for Love's fugitives
Remembrance is divine
It is your holy book that is yet to be writ
It is the light of the sun, it gives and gives.
It is the sanctum of the spirit in decline
It is the elixir of madmen and mystics, the lover's wine
It is all of your heroes cheering at the finish line
It is a friend's encouraging hand
Remembrance is divine
It is a garden in a wasteland.
It is the relief of speech in a room full of mimes
It is a captain in a ship left unmanned
It is the price of the soul's truth paid back in kind
It is a life raft for the sea stranded
And a candle in a prison cell for the damned
It is you and me as one if you would be so inclined
Dear wonder of the stars, leave your fears behind
And remember your heroes
Because remembrance, is, divine.

ruminations p. 2

At any given time
somewhere, someone
wishes they had your problems.

***

The soil of Earth
is a woman's womb
dark, damp
nurturing undergrowth.

***

Stars don't tire of shining
They just give off light
When they are most needed.

***

I have seen the face
of my enemy
and it looks just like my own

***

I saw a beggar
in the guise of a king
not a king of men and riches
but a king of his own desires

***

I made ladders out of lovers
to the divine; they carried me up
away from what appears to be my self

the Old Country

Plastic soccer balls
A garden hose in the bathroom
Milkmen in the morning
Melting ice cream
Fresh baked bread baking on a bed of stones
Cartoons from countries that haven't sanctioned ours
Condensation on the steel communal cup
Chained to an ice water tank in sweltering heat 

The sharp rap of the school disciplinarian's ruler
On fingers and palms
The sweet sound of school bells
Accentuated by the azan
Running water in the washrooms of local mosques
Bare feet on hand-woven carpets
Minarets, high rises and luxury buildings
The Jurassic limestone of the Alborz mountain range  

Iridescent Rosaris and black Chadors
Sandaled feet and prayer beads
Murmur of a grandmother's reverence
A blue glass eye dangling over the dashboard
Sidelong glances from dark eyes
Dancing beneath arching brows
Young couples discreetly holding hands
As they skirt along the mountains
Melting into the foliage
Fading from sight into the crevices of sheesha cafes
Along hiking paths leading to secret oases of tree-shade
And  the bubbling giggle of mountain streams

Conversation and companionship in communal cabs
The relief of air conditioning
The melody of heavy traffic
Over-heated radiators
The din of the bazaar
Unabashed stares in the marketplace
The cloying fragrance of rosewater and saffron
Pick up trucks on the side of the road selling seasonal fruit
70's Yamaha motorcycles backfiring
Into the glare of brand new BMWs

Street vendors hawking flowers and fresh walnuts
Chewing gum and knockoff cheetos
Charcoal-fired corn and skewers of liver
Mp3s of the latest hits and scrolls of Hafiz poetry
Randomly selected by trained canaries.


***

azan: call to prayers
rosari: headscarf
chador: bodyscarf

Smile

My love,
why are you so sad?
Why so heartbroken, my love?

Don't you see
My love, don't you see
Everything is singing for you and me

Don't you know last night
the moon climbed up over your window
just to share the sun's kiss with you?

Don't you know
every time you watched the stars
they were watching you back
as they made wishes off every turn of your hand?

My love, don't you know
the waves spent all night
writing you poetry on the sand?

Don't you see
My love, don't you see
Everything is singing for you and me

Don't you know every time you dance
seemingly still stars hurl themselves
across the night sky like comets?

Don't you know last night when you smiled through the scars
heavenly spheres aligned and the light in your eyes
lit a path to the very heart of the cosmos?

Don't you know each time you laugh
constellations fall out of alignment
and have to relocate their scattered parts?

Don't you know celestial bodies made pilgrimages to your bedside
every time you peeled away another layer of yourself
and emerged with wings from the cocoon of your ego?

They danced for you when you were born
a celebration unlike any other in all the multiple dimensions
eclipsed in greatness only by the birth of birth itself.
From the lowest to the highest
all the denizens of the universe bowed before you
prostrated before your feet, they all bowed
not in worship but acknowledgement
of that divine reality, the only reality
from whose likeness we were compelled to life
and to whose likeness we will return from life.

In the meantime my love, just remember the words
of that master Moulana Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
when he says the wound is where the light enters you.
So let us paint together a blood portrait of the constellations
that shine from the dark skies of our hearts
so we may see our own light when the hour draws dark.
And should our fingers stumble onto the stitches
holding together the seams of [other] shattered hearts
then we shall kiss each and every one of those sacred scars
and help one another remember our birth among the stars.