human

rory-bjorkman-17135

Photo by Rory Björkman on Unsplash

~

O mankind !
Be careful of your duty to your Lord
Who created you from a single soul
and from it created its mate
and from them twain hath spread abroad
a multitude of men and women

Holy Qur’an 4:1

~

I don’t know who you are
nor do I need to know

but I do know what makes you alive,
what carries hope inside,

what hurts when there is pain,

what feels elation at the
sight of the beloved one.

~

Let us recognize each other,
not as the other

but as the mirror by which
we judge the degree to
which our own souls
can expect salvation.

~

When you cry, know that I do too,
if simply on the inside.

There is something undeniably natural
in coming together over what it means to
be human.

~

I don’t care for the past
or for memories gone,

but I do care for the
essence within me and within you,

which ultimately,
and most hopefully,
in all the deepest hope and truest dream

are going again to a shared plane,
where joys are evident, and love
is the air we breathe.

 

The place we last met

pexels-photo-316587

All a person wants is to be loved,

to be told that it will be difficult being apart from them.
That when push comes to shove, their presence matters most.

Life unfolds in the moments between being loved,
while waiting for the beloved to return to the place we last met.

~

Dearest,
do you know that I love you in every moment,
whether you are present with me there or not?

I would run unnecessary errands just to be with you,
give you my opinion on a great many things for which I do not care, simply to be in your conversation.

Your gratitude is welcome but what I really want is your hand, your uninterrupted gaze.

~

I would follow you to the end of your journey before undertaking my own,
for a few moments of love promised.

Are you coming to meet me soon?

Start over

field-thunderstorm-rainy-meadowImage source: https://www.pexels.com/photo/country-lane-field-meadow-puddles-1551/

Everything always comes to a head,
like gray clouds on a breezy summer afternoon.

They roll in suddenly, catching us unawares.

It rains

and there is relief
not for the ground, but for the tired sky.

There was a lot to hold on to
and now it has been let go.

Start over,
start again,
whatever that means to you.

life’s horse

whitesheet
Click here for image source.

I can’t say that I want to grab life by the horns.
I think I would rather watch it come together
with time like the soft creases of a baby’s smile.

I would rather lay life out like a sheet,
smoothing the wrinkles with my palms
and tugging here and there to make it fit.

I don’t care to iron first.

~

I want to watch a plastic beach ball rise and fall in the waves,
being carried here and there, appearing not to move
until some hours later when only a speck is visible in the distance.

I just want to see what will happen if I let go of the reins.

Do I believe that life’s horse will find its way home?

No artist

beachnight
Click here for image source.

 

Have you ever wanted to feel differently without changing who you are?

~

I am no artist.

I take what is known and repurpose it,
I take what can be deduced and write long sentences explaining how to get there

I justify my existence because I am asked to

because that is the way the world works.

~

When I was caught up in it all, I saw a glimpse of the core of the core of a diamond
Where a single particle of light entered and became a wave, reflecting ever internally without end.

I stopped breathing, then
My eyes were open, but unnecessary

And I heard the music.

~

When I was tired I lay down and slept like there was nothing else
When fed, I lamented having eaten

When I was cold I longed for summer sun
When warm, I threw open my cloak to embrace harsh air

When I was rich I was no different than when I was poor

When I worked out of fear, I came so far
When I overcame fear, I stalled, thinking where to go next

The push from the outside, the crack of a whip has always been stronger than
This inner master

~

I can do anything, if asked
I can make anything, if told to

I can warm your heart talking to you for a few moments, in a place where we can feel,
under the stars with coffee in hand

I can help you but I can’t help me.

 

path

Image source: http://www.forwallpaper.com/wallpaper/nature-nature-landscape-boards-timber-path-path-road-264461.html
Image source: http://www.forwallpaper.com/wallpaper/nature-nature-landscape-boards-timber-path-path-road-264461.html

Thank you for giving me the chance
to be the kind of person that I would like to think I am.

~

For some time we’ve known that our path would be unlike some others.

At times, we would look outwardly un-alive,
while our counterparts pledged to make the most of their precious time,
far away, on other continents.

There is a difference, between patience and complacence;
between passivity, and compassion.
If the difference is not apparent, an explanation will not help you.

We are, here and now, living for a day we cannot see
but we know is there.

We too, have a destiny,
and ours is one we trust was chosen for us, long ago.

If our days are spent moving even a grain of uncertainty off the pile
then over time, surely we will find what is buried underneath.

If our days are spent walking a single step at a time,
then we trust the destination will meet us halfway.

It is inevitable that we will go somewhere from here
and that we will know where we have been, when we leave.

not one and the same

Papery leaf. © Saara Punjani 2014.
Papery leaf. © Saara Punjani 2014.

Oh, you’ve let me go,
says papery leaf, for a while miserable in the dampening mud.

Tree knows not the leaf
so tree discards the leaf;
they are not one and the same.

Leaf says,
Eventually I will return to you
in a way that you cannot refuse!

I will become you.

Leaf cries for the ground to take him in;
begs for the rain to dissolve him.

~

A story inspired during the autumn, but held back until an appropriate time.

Sometimes we don’t recognize ourselves in one another and it is difficult to appreciate our commonalities, what we share. Then again, we come from one source.

How can we adapt ourselves so that others will recognize us, and in so doing, embrace us as they would the known, the familiar?