komm fuell mein leer haus

Pull out the poetry
unravel me line by line
in quiet honest moments
I think quiet honest thoughts

Kussi

Something like love stirs.

I think in poetry...

there is more beauty to be found in days that begin with you.

Daylight

I smell you on my clothes;
on my hands.

All voices scratch as cat claws on bedposts.
Their contrast is yours.

You linger here...

My hands, my tounge,
my thoughts desire to create
and gift.

I draw for you;
write you poems.

My heart translates foreign texts.
My brain picks up clues in the context.

Nerves are shot,
bleached by the penetrating white heat
of each morning spent rising with the sun.

Slightly frightened:
this desire for constant interaction.

Slightly overwhelmed:
these feelings, this joy have been foreign so long.

Did you know you had it in you?

A good friend lent me a book of poetry and while the poems are a celebration of this poets god-love, the words are no less moving and your personal idea of god can be interchanged easily. You could easily remove the god parts altogether as well. For me I've gotten very comfortable with the use of the word "god" even if it does have allusions to the traditional Christian religion that is force fed to us daily in the U.S. I believe there is something more than myself on this planet. I also believe that that thing or energy or light is reflected in us.
We are part of it all.
You are part of my god-head.
...enjoy

Against My Own Hand

you are
a shy divine deer
that I cannot cease tracking

though only once of late
did I get so close
to see

my own face and heart
reflected

in your wondrous soft eyes

only once of late, beloved,
when I thought that I had you
at last concerned

did
Hafiz
come to know
the sublime beauty of god's body

against my own
hand.

From The Gift: Poems by Hafiz the great Sufi master