then i began looking for you

“The minute I heard my first love story I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was”  -  Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī

Then I began to find you
in the smile of a child
a kind word from a stranger
the sun upon my face
the midnight moon
and her starry companions.

The scent of garden bowers
caused you to be present
and all my senses became acute
upon arrival of spring rain
and summer heat.

I saw you in the flight
of majestic birds
and the death of loved ones.

You showed your face to me
in a mirror of my own
and that of a blind man with cane
wandering aimlessly down the road.

I then recognized my own blindness
and rubbed my weary eyes
fell to the dust of this Earth
and realized
that I, too, am blind
with less sight than the man
not so aimlessly wandering.

And that is when I began searching for you
in the smile of a small child.

© Susan Marie 2010

(Thanks Ali)

Man Kunto Maula

We are all searching, all going someplace, all returning

as seasons reverberate
the roar of silent tears
deep within the steady rumbling
of empty bellies

such contrast
as sun to moon

the clash of delicate china
upon grand mahogany altars
oh, how they dance
with silver stemmed crystal goblets

such silence is unheard of here
in this grand ballet
as that of the silent tears
from bellies that cry without

it is a different kind of silence
held deep within the thorax
behind the sternum
hidden

yet the seasons show no mercy
upon roaring silent tears
for they are seen
without copper covered lids

the same solitary sight
that recognizes

we are all searching, all going someplace, all returning.

© Susan Marie 2010

*"Man Kunto Maula", a part of a famous statement of the Seal of Prophet, upon him be holy benedictions, which is, "Man kunto maula, fa Ali-un Maula" - meaning 'Whoever accepts me as master, Ali is his master too'. Imam Ali is known to be a great gnostic who have perfected his realization. One of his gnostic utterances include, "I have seen my Lord with the eyes of my heart."

such perfect death

the tulip raised
her bloodied lilting head
to rest in the outstretched palm
of the hero, now fallen as martyr
lying wasted
in fields of sweet grass

armor as warrior
     heart of lover

and she, eye of God, heavens palette
a solitary tulip
closed her own eyes in solace

peaceful as the slain lover
masked as warrior

and wept for them both
as her lover wept in suffering
for his beloved

both to sleep
an eternal rest
of princes and kings
not as two
but a most perfect union
below skies of cerulean

and with last breath
her diaphragm ceased
her head, comforted in the crook
of the fleshy part
of the palm of her lover

she spent her last moment
on Earth
smiling

in peace

such perfect death.

© Susan Marie December 16, 2010

For a warrior whom is a lover and Muharram and Karbala.