Tag: awakening

Jamaat

hasan-almasi-567065-unsplash

Photo by Hasan Almasi on Unsplash.

 

the sun rose for the first time for us today
the moon showed its face over the trees

for the first time,
the only time necessary for us to understand that what we love
is the only thing that can be Loved,
the only thing that can possibly Be

~

We’ve gathered to bear witness to the origin of everything;
The place of peace, where everything has been vested
Not yet manifest, but quite seemingly on the verge

~

maybe if we all sit together
on our humble knees

we might fit together like an intricate mosaic
displaying all of the colours that make up
the world in all its beauty

and maybe, You could do us the immense favour
of gazing here

~

Every country is your country
Every seat, is your seat

Every banda is your banda
Whether he knows it or not

~

we might be far from you but we want to be closer
and if you allow us, we will come together
and in coming together, feel your presence through each other, near and far

~

Every place is in congregation
Every one of us, your jamaat

 

Navroz Mubarak (2015)

Shoots of wheat. Image sourced from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wheatgrass.
Shoots of wheat. Image sourced from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wheatgrass.

These days our eyes have opened to another sun,
quite further and beyond the one
that dapples everything with gold these evenings.

For the first time in our lives we yearn to cry,

navroz mubarak!

not for what has happened with us
but for what we hope will happen to you as well.

~

The day is here, and this time, springtime clichés are no longer.
Some seeds have grown up on their own into meaning.

How to describe this blessing?

Closing our eyes becomes the same as opening them;
this light continues beyond sight.

We are truly one this time, angelic in the abounding clarity
which at once we can see, and not see.

In our blessed gathering we are as light as we have ever been,
our true selves merging, one another with the rest.

~

Navroz (or Nowruz) is a festival celebrated around the world to commemorate the beginning of a new year and the first day of spring.

To learn more about Navroz, visit Wikipedia.org and/or TheIsmaili.org.

To read “navroz (2014)” on this blog, click here.

dissolving further all the time (2014)

Somewhere along Balmy Beach, Toronto, ON. © Saara Punjani 2013.
Somewhere along Balmy Beach, Toronto, ON.
© Saara Punjani 2013.

each time we turned
to rise above this illusion of the finite,
we were met with a ceiling – not yet, not yet

we made steady ablutions
and we kept a hopeful heart
and still, we were not crowned to go on

~

a kite without a string
would be blown every which way on the ground;

a kite with a string
rises high in finite direction

yet, without the string
we could not have come
as far as we already have

how far must we rise before the string can be cut;
before we are unbound from the direction of our path?

how far must we rise before we are taken into the skies,
mere specks, dissolving further all the time?

~

on this day, listen, to the quiet,
as clearly, some things are being said

whether we move,
upward,
inward,
outward or forward,
we cannot begin to say

the tides pull us away,
that we forget you;

the tides push us so far
that we fall right in

here we have always been, unmoving in the movement,
immersed in the truth of your most impressive signs

let us dig deeper, look farther, stay awake longer;
let us continue searching for you

let us be so obviously engrossed,
mere specks, dissolving further all the time

what you have always been (2014)

today, i am not writing;
i am hearing a language
that i do not quite understand

the vocabulary, given in flashes,
where veils, so to speak,
part to reveal a grander intention

than the one displayed
by you, or you,
or you

there is something else,
out there,
in there

~

one sense blends into another
and my heart becomes the crown of them all

i give myself over, one kernel at a time;

i deconstruct myself, one brick at a time
to see what is in the spaces between

there is something else out there,
in there

~

there is no reason
why i shouldn’t be able
to taste the freshness
of a moment

why
i shouldn’t be able
to  hear everything
that was ever said as truth

why i shouldn’t be able
to see through
to what remains
after the last of the bricks is removed

~

i don’t write these words
because i know any more than you know

i write them because
like you, i knew something once,
but i’ve forgotten

~

ask, to speak to you,
every moment, every breath,
every embrace

 

you are,
you are,
you are

what you have always been

and what you will always be

to speak of this, is to be silent (2014)

to speak of this, is to be silent

~

this night bears witness of the re-emergence of i
who extracts the self from the folds of us all
to take up seat in the presence of the beloved

 

who can stay locked up when the beloved comes to call;
who can refuse the sweet companionship?

every surface on which the beloved’s gaze falls,
loves, breathes, swings and sways in rapture

~

no one taught me how to find you
but you taught me
by the pen

no one told me i already knew you
but you tell me
over again

inside me, whole seas part
to reveal the way
to your shore

i have come upon myself
in a way
like never before

~

this fresh instance (2014)

"That all men may know his work." Inscription in the ceiling of the Royal Ontario Museum. © Saara Punjani 2013.
“That all men may know His work.” Inscription in the ceiling of the Royal Ontario Museum. © Saara Punjani 2013.

who can say we have no need of a poet?

how many times we need eat the same message
yet certainly it tastes better when fresh!

~

let me bake this fresh instance,
let me sing this fluttering green;
let me whirl the tunic of my heart round;
let me paint this golden sheen

let me make this message something you know,
something you recognize;
something that knocks on the door of your stillness
and rouses you into a poet too

 

 

the shower of your blessing (2014)

this, is the shower of your blessing
the one that comes down as music
needing only something off which to sound

we hover now, on the best place there is:
on the threshold, a step away from your rain,
but not fully inside of it

 

only here can we truly appreciate what you send

 

were we immersed,
we could not see how this rain drops abundantly on every leaf,
each of which curls, bows, in gratitude

were we too far away
we could not see how this rain constantly merges with itself,
ever merging into larger course

 

a trickle to a stream, a stream to a river:
instinctively, we know where this merger leads

unlidded (2014)

a power enters our vessel this night

we stand, electrified
as a force from elsewhere courses through

~

for months we have opened this door and that

looking for the place we once stumbled upon
looking for the feeling which could not be stored

now here, under crescent moon and darkened sky
where soft waves keep consistent rhythm

here, is a glistening sign

~

what has taken hold of us this time?

the sky as though unlidded;
ourselves, similarly so

what stirs the trees to move as they do?
what force leaves its mark in the sand?

this power both beckons and warns

~

once again we are on the verge of sleeplessness,
once more, on the edge of your cliff

no longer (2014)

who can say what should be done?

~

no longer can i breathe without running,
no longer can i eat before moving,
no longer can i speak before listening

no longer can i do
before asking,

what if,
what if all i am furthering
is irrelevance?

~

have you come here to sit,
or have you come to work hard,
so that you may make something
from nothing at all?

~

play without work
makes only a stomach ache

and love without change,
a costly, boring painting!

i care not for the pleasures
unless
you first give me of pain.

i’ve found you, me (2014)

i like you, me

you may be my twin sister unrealized

 

are you in my pen or in the page?
am i holding a magnet, that you rearrange your essence to meet me?

 

i am fond of you, me

you may be my outlet,
the electric source of all my harmony

or perhaps my inlet,
a moonlit sanctuary where only the tide governs our mood

ha!
i’ve found you, me
and i am  not going to let you go!

~

you are exactly me, but better;
my counsel, my friend

your presence is better than a thousand praises to my name

give me hope! and keep me content

be my voice when all else is a confusing din

what is winter (2014)

Winter, somewhere near Ottawa, Canada. © Saara Punjani 2013.
Winter, somewhere near Ottawa, Canada. © Saara Punjani 2013.

dearest,

has not spring followed every winter of your life?

your task is not to hurry along the new season,
but to grow your stores of patience
so that you may quietly weather the cold

 

in cycles you fall and rise
in cycles you pain and grow

 

what is winter if not the ultimate growing pain?

your task is not to despair in the receding light,
but to close your eyes in proportion
so that you may continue to remain in harmony

what is winter if not the ultimate preparation for change?

your task is not to cling to what once grew on you,
but to let what has served its purpose gracefully fall away
so that you may remain open to embrace new plantings

what is winter if not the ultimate opportunity for reflection?

your task is not to cry, not to blind yourself with the memory of what once was,
but to bravely face your bare reflection in frozen pools
so that you may know what you are at your core.

my heart is becoming blind (2014)

my heart is becoming blind,
but finding meaning in a way that was not open to it before

when the eyes were wide,
the fingers were dead; the world of raised letterforms,
unavailable

my heart is becoming deaf,
but finding meaning in a way that was not open to it before

when the ears were sensitive,
the eyes pre-conceived; the world of fresh signs,
overlooked

my heart is becoming mute,
but finding meaning in a way that was not open to it before

when the mouth ran on,
the ears grew stiff; the world of boundless harmony,
unheard

my heart is losing its mind,
but finding meaning in a way that it could only understand
after walking a new path
of learning
of knowing
of being

~

what sense is this?
which fingers grasp the idea of you?
which eyes are open for your light?

my heart grows an entire body around it
though one existed before

my heart causes an entire body to inflate
into the one the existed before

what pushes on the walls of my old self,
wanting out?

am i to burst, or am i to shed,
what was once dead,
what was once me?