Tag: understanding

the centre (2019)

ismaili centre toronto
Image sourced from TheIsmaili.org: http://www.theismaili.org/ismailicentres/toronto/architecture-toronto-0

think, if someone were to be given
a softer heart,

one that was able to feel the soul
in everything

~

we came when called just enough times
that the abode before us consented to transform our lives

a place where love literally throbs,
the heart and soul of the structure that is the centre of our lives

all of us have become so much more and less than we were, here.

~

the centre has become my centre
and has captured the centre at the centre of me

it spills over its edges into the rest of my life and
makes the rest of my life part of itself too

i am pulled here unyieldingly
as though in the arms of a vortex spinning so fast i can’t even tell
where it begins and where i end

there is nothing i feel that doesn’t get resolved
once i’ve come back to my centre;
not a single worry that isn’t smoothed, a fear that isn’t untangled
once i’ve been here at my core

~

the people here are like the sound inside a seashell,
telling stories of separate drops flowing together to their ultimate end,

each one making an impression on my heart

~

this place makes me face those things about myself that i would rather ignore,
such as my obvious unworthiness

but of course, that is exactly why i’ve come

~

brother, you might do it better than me
and you might know something i don’t

but i won’t hold it against you
since you are here to show me what i could be,
not what i am not

and thank God, thank you, for giving us this place
to come to.

This poem, written shortly after the fifth anniversary of the opening of the Ismaili Centre Toronto, is meant to capture the deep meaning that spaces of community and worship can bring to our lives over time, as well as the newfound meaning we can obtain from the seemingly familiar by engaging on many different levels. This piece is a followup to the original “the centre (2014)”, available to read here.

the people, us, and them

Image sourced from: http://www.alfoart.com/golden_apple_tree_1.html
Image sourced from: http://www.alfoart.com/golden_apple_tree_1.html

Our apples are golden from your side of the orchard,
but here they are simply red like blood.

We pick what grows and move to make our bread.

When that bread turns beautifully to gold in our mouths,
we know it was only because of a prayer.

~

What can we rush along, dearest,
not the opening of a leaf, or eyes, or heart.

What of a friend, what of an enemy;
what of someone who is just like us?

What kind of strong will can we rush to bend into an embrace,
the strongest sign of an acceptance of the soul of the other?

~

It has been a long time since we pained, dearest,
since the fruit we picked so lovingly
turned to sour nothingness in our mouth.

It has been a long time since we rushed around
banging our heads on the walls,
opening books to pages we understand for comfort.

It has been a long time since we withdrew into our own,
since the trickling of ego was felt through the holes
of our pretty heart-basket.

~

They ask to know who we are right now,
to know what we would tell them, to check for hypocrisy —
to see if we feel any pain.

But we do not recall anything that has happened to us,
nothing that truly affected our minds.
Another grayness dawns, clear and cold.

If there was pain, we learned how to talk to it
long ago, as children. If there was joy
we sent it off to come again.

Won’t they understand that we are nothing right now,
that there is nothing material left to share?

We only wither and unfurl quietly as per our season,
and we are one and no one all again.

~

This piece is a reflection on our relationships with other people. How do we understand ourselves, and how much common humanity do we truly perceive in others, in “them”? What do we use to define ourselves, and what of those definitions do we use to relate to others? How do others view our blessings and “misfortunes” in relation to their own?