Too deep for words

Too deep for words                                                                                    
 
The poems You inspire in others are,
for the most part, anthems of praise. 
 
The poems You give to me are more about
the give and take between the two of us.
 
It’s because I know so little about You! 
Only what You have (in my heart) told me;
 
(in Your silence) have shown me.  Pure praise
seems to be beyond me – the terminology
 
of which only You have any real understanding. 
If You take from me my poetry, I would ask one favor.  

 
Take it by leaving me speechless with wonder,
robbed of comparisons; dazed by Your nearness.  

Let pure praise be denied me still – a blasphemy
breaking the bonds of a Oneness too deep for words.

O child of God, praise of the Christ
is to the spiritual benefit of all.

Heavy equipment

Heavy equipment                                                                    
 
There’s a vineyard within a graveyard;
a Tomb on a Hill built of discarded stones,
 
the bones of a man Who gave Himself
to a world that hurries past now; 
 
the wine from that vineyard, grown  
           in the mandali’s dust,
cinders and bones, intoxicates me.
 
I’ve never completely recovered
           my former sobriety.
I can’t be trusted to walk a straight line
           or operate heavy equipment!
 
I stepped out of the Tomb one morning
           onto uneven terrain.
I don’t know what to do when You strand me like this.
 
If You never come back, I’ll die here –
on the corner where You left me.
 
O child of God, if the Master never returns,
it’s just another way of His keeping His promise.

                               (from A Jewel in the Dust, 2011)

A tender child

A tender child                                                                                            
 
The great fear of death was once for me
the end of self.  Now it’s the resurrection,
 
again and again, from the fields of stone
towards a conscription into battle
 
where the enemy is always myself.
Another lifetime beginning from scratch,
 
far from heaven, a tender child to face anew
the test of mettle, the suffering of desires
 
(met or unmet), to don yet another false suit
of congeniality and compliance while living
 
covertly under the compulsion of human
ignorance, isolation, cowardice and sin.
 
O child of God, the deeper your renunciation,
the nearer you are to His open arms.

The fruit sublime

 
The fruit sublime
 
Climb out farther on the limb,
the utmost ends,
 
where the sublime fruit grows,
only the rare ones eat –
 
assorted birds, extraordinary climbers,
graceful, long-throated beasts.
 
You’ve been rooted too long in the shadows,
settling for the ordinary. 
 
Climb where the limbs splay and sag
under your weight;
know the body’s full price. 
 
Your soul, fed on such fruit, eventually
will leave this entanglement 
 
and with the birds soar
the farthest reaches of the sky.
 
O child of God, you’ll transcend this realm,
when you’ve developed a taste for the fruit sublime.

The eternity within

The eternity within                                                                                              
 
I might have become bitter with age
but my Lord fills me with such sweet wine! 
 
From the inside out, He serves me
(as the world offers its standard gristle and gall),
 
the generous terms of a surrender which seem
surprisingly, more and more, an intensely shared
 
bond of triumph and liberation.
When the divine Companion whispers to you
 
it makes no difference what is said,
whether you make out the words or not;
 
it matters not what He asks of you nor whether
you are prepared to obey – it is the hearing
 
of a lifetime deaf-and-unfeeling heart,
the slow turning of yourself around
 
to see God coming – not from anywhere above
or beyond, but from the eternity within.
 
O child of God, again and again His words
strike home – we are not we but One.

 

The cross within my chest

The cross within my chest                                                            
 
You gave me three sons,
an inkling of the grandeur and price
 
You pay for loving Your children.
As they leave my door, I pray for them
 
to move unscathed through a world
of torment and deceit.
 
Suffering is prasad – they must surely
drink from that cup
 
but, nothing reveals so starkly
the paucity of my faith,
 
the cross within my chest,
as these three figures
 
disappearing over the horizon.
Like Joseph, I know – I’m not the Father.
 
Like Abraham, I’m torn between
love and trust; terror and surrender –
 
the intersection of such extremes
roughly joined and nailed beneath my flesh.
 
O child of God, teach by example.
Strong faith will inspire your sons to courage.

  

Helter-skelter

Helter-skelter                                                                                            
 
When I pledged to follow You I didn’t quite grasp
it was like following a deer through a forest
 
or a thief through the labyrinths of the city.
I thought vaguely to position myself at Your feet
 
and with Your mere presence and honeyed words
You would transport me to another realm. 
 
You have not only remained silent but on the move! 
And I’ve been given no choice
 
but to run helter-skelter behind,
gathering the clues You scatter.
 
It might not be the accepted way
but it’s the only way I know
 
and I have found You most kind,
benevolent and dear in Your grace.
 
O child of God, the more you abandon
your presumptions, the nearer get to Meher.

A suspect scarlet

A suspect scarlet                                                                                     
 
The ink fades
on the paper even as I write.
 
I long to dip my pen into the heart’s well
and stain these pages with blood!
 
Romantic words, but what do they mean?
Once it breaks the surface, blood turns
 
from its true color to a suspect scarlet.
The Beloved knows every complaint
 
and praise before they soak the paper.
His fare is the wordless poetry of your true Being.
 
These ghazals are His gift to you. 
Read them carefully.
 
O child of God, put as little of yourself as possible
into these poems and refrain from judgment.

The prayer of roses

The prayer of roses                                                                                    
 
Beloved God, help me to become
a bed of roses – rose upon rose,
 
rose and rose and still yet roses
until I am roses no more – only fragrance
 
and help me to blend and cling then
to the divine fragrance
 
of the one heavenly Rose
until the very end.
 
O child of God, in the noose of Its fragrance,  
the nightingale becomes the Rose.

Indescribable

Indescribable                                                                                 
 
And so it happened one night,
under the cover of a new moon,
 
an inmate slipped over the wall and was gone.
Imagine his surprise, when a jailer escaped with him!
 
They traveled together as far as the state line,
the inmate turning east – toward freedom;
 
the jailer ditching his uniform and rifle,
wandering off in search of lost innocence.
 
‘Punishment and confinement,” he declared,
“no longer provide my livelihood!’ 
 
So saying, he strode, naked
and nonchalant, into the sunset.
 
O child of God, how long will you persist in this folly –
trying to describe bits and pieces of the Indescribable.

                                    (from A Jewel in the Dust, 2011)

The salt of Your Ocean

The salt of Your Ocean                                                                          
 
Sacramental wine in a rough clay jug
passed around to the lovers of Meher, 
 
spilling and splashing as He fills each cup –
O, that the whole world might be stained!
 
Thread is twisted and pushed through a needle’s eye –
now the mending can begin.
 
A lighthouse on this Hill lures wayfarers
to its rugged shore only to shipwreck and drown.
 
I’ve tasted the salt of Your Ocean;
let me founder on these jagged stones,
          never to rise again.
 
O child of God, the path to the Summit is long and difficult,
yet you are nearer than you’ve ever been.

                                                (from A Jewel in the Dust, 2011)

 

A fork in the road

A fork in the road                                                                                      
 
The planet earth is uninhabited.
No one afoot in the whole wide world.
 
All the heroes we cheer and encourage,
all the villains we jeer and detest, are God.
 
You and I, on our precarious,
 judgmental perches, are God.
 
God alone exists, said Meher.  We can’t
realize the truth of that statement
 
but we might accept it on faith.  
Which brings us to a fork in the road –
 
either we live by that faith or we live
by the assumptions we’ve been taught
 
since the day of our birth concerning the true
nature of our world, ourselves, our Maker.
 
O child of God, Jesus said no one can serve two masters.
You will hold to one and despise the other.

The faintest of hopes

The faintest of hopes                                                                                 
 
Not a trace of faith my first stumbling steps,
only the faintest of hopes, so I built,
 
upon reasonable assumptions, a patchwork,
uninspired view and crowned it my faith. 
 
I grew dependent upon it, as it bloomed
and evolved – longing to live by it,
 
not to die without it – a living, working faith
that proves itself each day, as it eclipses all else,
 
even the ultimate goal and always turning back
my attention to the path and to my Companion,
 
every step a communion with that One
Who first provoked within me
 
this marvelous, almost hopeless,
fanciful and once faithless quest.
 
O child of God, while you were busy searching for God,
He’s been methodically preparing the way for your return.

The fellow with the umbrella

The fellow with the umbrella                                                                  
 
Sometimes it’s hard to keep up with You –
like the fellow with the umbrella,
 
trying to protect You from the sun.
An impossible task, yet given as prasad!
 
Vainly, I chase You, offering my services,
knowing You require nothing
 
and I have so little to give.
How great is Your mercy!
 
Keeping me beside You;
demanding my attention and care
 
while I’m the one being served;
I’m the one being protected.
 
O child of God, liberation is achieved through servitude.
Be grateful for any little assistance you can render.

                                         (from A Jewel in the Dust, 2011)