Tuesday, August 05, 2008

interlude

I have a thirsty fish in me
that can never find enough
of what it's thirsty for.

Show me the way to the ocean.
Break these half-measures,
these small containers.

Let my house be drowned in the wave
that rose last night out of the courtyard
hidden in the center of my chest.

The harvest I expected was washed away.
But no matter.

A fire has risen above my tombstone hat.
I don't want learning, or dignity,
or respectability.

I want this music and this dawn
and the warmth of your cheek against mine.

The grief-armies assemble,
but I'm not going with them.

This is how it always is
when I finish a poem.

A great silence overcomes me,
and I wonder why I ever thought
to use language.

Rumi

A

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

what a beautiful poem..

Anonymous said...

i enthusiastically enjoy this poem. is it ok to comment? (maybe should have asked a while ago.sorry.)