it’s okay to be the one that loves more
to be the one that speaks less
to be the one that reaches out for a strong hand
isn’t it wonderful
that you can be so in need?
isn’t it wonderful
that you can feel so in need?
my dearest, dearest, heart:
it’s okay to put the self to rest
and to yield to your need
for the beloved
i close my eyes and
my forehead is so naturally drawn
downward, to rest at your feet
i cannot do other than bow
this is where i am
and this is where i belong
something in me knows
some days i wonder if you remember me
you have so many to attend to
but i still wish you would come to see me
what does it tell you, dearest,
that of all the expression you could choose,
you chose poetry, the most free
expression is the way
to find you
you remember me
when i remember you
perhaps you, o free one, always come
when i ask you to meet me
on the page.
up until now you have seen nothing
a glimpse here, a slip there
the day i throw back my robe and reveal my full self to you,
the day i push back the drapes of my interior,
that day, will you know me
give me a seed
and i will grow a garden for you
give me an cup
and i will brew an ocean for you
give me a little love,
i will make a lifetime
what does it mean to have a perfect moment,
when we do not know if the next moment will come?
these moments that you are living,
are the perfect moments
when love beats its fists on the walls of your throat,
let it out!
at once the maestro of the universe
and the twinkle in the eye of the playful child
it wants to be known, it wants to flow
don’t let it sit in you, fermenting
send it out!
to give the stranger a smile,
to give your friend a single grain
of the love over which you keep such meticulous account?
what of yours will lessen if you unlock yourself
to let someone else gaze upon your treasure?
you were only given anything
because Someone thought
you knew what to do
with these gifts
give away whatever does not fit comfortably in your existing cupboards
and watch how heavy you become in the corpulence of blessings accumulated
whatever you keep beyond what you need is
a potter sees clay
what would you like to be today, love?
let me shape you, fashion you,
let me hold you and mould you,
let me press you and caress you,
into what you once were,
into what you have always been
my heart sees you,
though to my eyes
you are a lump of clay
like any other
i know where you came from
and i know what you want to be
i will release you from your matrix;
i will love you into who you are
and who you have been.
you have always been here,
but i never saw you before
though i searched for you;
i looked for you
have you always been you?
have i ever been ready to see you before now?
a season comes, as it should
a flower comes up from the ground this season,
like none before, like none before
have you always loved me this way?
have you been waiting,
for me to see you?
a rose blooms, as it should
a lover unveils himself
like a star whose light reaches me today after years of existence
like a fragrance that begins in one corner of the house and spreads slowly throughout my body
like a seed that awakens in opaque soil, only to suddenly emerge
like a crystal that forms not a moment after i pull my waiting eyes away
you have shown your sign
listen to your heart, they say
let it guide you
which part of me sees you, feels you?
which part of me knows you?
you have known me a long time
loving from near, loving from afar
i cannot say how, but i remember you
i close my eyes to see you
i enter my heart
to meet you
i had enough but i asked for more,
a little more
a little more still
you obliged silently, filling my cup to the very top
what danced inside was love, was light;
a thousand rubies all melting into one.
i am brimming, i said to you;
i cannot take any more of your light!
please, deepen my cup so that i can hold even this much of you in me
please, open my pores,
my every hair
so that i can breathe again.
the blooming chalice,
the rose and the wineglass,
how similar they look!
why give myself of sorrow; why try to empty my cup?
in the waiting on edge, in the unrest of too much joy,
you will grow my cup, when you want to.
Today I smooth out my dress;
I comb my hair and apply oils
I want to be so radiant that you cannot bear to look at me
Will you be my mirror?
If I look into you, show me my beauty
How much of me is lost in translation
How much of you, revealed in my reflection
You are nothing without me
Only a servant
Waiting to be called from the wings
Show me who I am
And I am gold!
Husniya, I will name my daughter;
Latifa, I will call her; my love
What comes from me should be me
Should be beautiful as me
And more heartbreakingly so
Because she will be you, too
Husniya, I will call her; Latifa, my love!
May she never need to look further than herself
To find me.
(I use Husniya and Latifa to loosely correspond to “beautiful” in English.)
i prepare a meal.
do you know,
i place some of my self in each piece?
i feel somehow that if i do
perhaps you might know me
if i become you;
if you absorb me.
what is this relationship we have?
all i have to do is keep myself open,
and you slide yourself quietly within
you are so gentle with me;
i don’t feel your arrival until you are well within my blood;
until i am ready to receive you
then suddenly i become aware
you have come!
you are here!
if i am speaking, the words are yours
if i breathe, the rhythm is you
i become a vessel
through which you manifest
if you want to write, i hold myself out as your pen
if you want to dance, i keep myself loose to take on your shape
if you want to breathe, i rise and fall for you
let me be your hand, your face
let me be your eye, your foot
let me be an extension of you
Take a breath
Let me hold you close to my heart
See how I hold you
Feel me here
I will never leave you
Because I am in you
Whenever you love me
You love yourself.
lips of rose.
what preserves the mystery,
but the music between.
joy in the beautiful now,
a dainty creation of rice paper.
what keeps fragile intact,
but the tenderness between.
miles of sky.
what calls you home,
but the space in between.
search not for perfection in the one you love
unless that one is the One.
search not for anything in the one you love
simply give, simply give.
that One is the well
if you look down into it, you see yourself
a perfect self, so beautiful
that you have to turn away.
if I could love him to such depth,
I might turn away from myself and come around again,
anew, the most beautiful,
a droplet in the well of the One.
do these feelings recur only because the tree has not yet borne fruit,
the seed has not yet matured, the rain has not yet made the earth full?
or is it something more?
if i am love,
will i last beyond the summer season, beyond ripeness,
beyond the harvest moon?
is it possible for love to live longer than a season
without becoming rigid, without dying out,
without encasing itself, lying dormant until the next spring?
is it possible that i will resist being carried,
a fluff on the wind,
and instead allow something to catch me,
keep me here?
a spring of creamy butterfly wings beating joyfully
beating joyfully on the beating walls
of your stomach beating with joy
a spring of sudden wind gusts
that rush up behind and
with gusto, sweep you off your feet
a spring of a sun reborn
awakening earlier with each morning
less and less eager to depart
it feels like spring here
I feel the butterflies
in my stomach, anxiously
waiting for you
when you lift
me off my feet I hear
the sun lingers but
time hurries by,
as if to compensate
it feels a lot like spring here
to be with you, be would the passion
that I’ve been for searching years for
be you with me too, please, afraid I
not, to beg since my pride melted and
will love me too, for every life and each
moment I together have unearthed with
because still stand clock hands when
told to, crawls by time when asked to, by
and beats heart richly than before ever
life in, next to, beating too, heart in
your touch has undone me;
your caress, my key.
in your absence i gather myself to myself,
a blossom shy to bloom.
i want it to be you, you, you,
you beside me, your fingers embracing my throat,
your thumb following the fragile sinews
to their inevitable union with the base of my heart.
the heart of my body listens for yours,
echoing beat for beat.
the heart of my heart spills over from its cup
trickling into places i never knew i had within me.
this heart is knocking
on all of my doors,
your season has come!