A fire beneath my ribs
I thought I heard Your handclap
halfway around the world . . .
but it turned out to be the sound
of Your fist pounding Your thigh
during those last, secluded years.
I hear it now – the strain and agony
of Your work pitched across time –
the severing blows, the opening of floodgates,
the sharp uncoupling of chains.
You’re with me now – a fire beneath my ribs,
Your universal work, whatever its immensity
and range, turning out to be, also,
intimate and interior, individual,
like the fitting of braces on a crippled child.
O child of God, Meher entered the timeless beyond
to offer you, this moment, intimacy with the Ancient One.
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