You began Your ministry at a loss for words
amidst the human misery and longing,
enmity and despair. What words to add
after three thousand years
of empty rhetoric and the true teachings
skewed and obfuscated, almost never penetrating
either hearts or heads?
Best to go back to a clean slate,
a new language older than clay,
not intended for mouth nor ear,
straight to the heart,
pinning Your fortunate lovers to the wall,
the quivering shaft of your arrow.
And not just Your lovers (You say),
all of Creation and only incrementally
have I come to accept, mutely enrapt,
the power and primacy of your wordless awakenings.
O child of God, so many verses you have spent (!)
trying to express the silence of Meher.