Sharing a piece of Rumi

A Delicate Girl


The terrible grief of being human! Let

us drink it all, but with a difference.


We sit with Junnaiyd and Bestami. The

moon rising here cannot be covered with


cloud. There are no deaths for lovers.

Who is the self? A delicate girl that


flows out when we draw the sword of

selfless action. This earth eats men


and women, and yet we are sent to eat

the world, this place that tries to fool


us with tomorrow. Wait until tomorrow,

which we outwit by enjoying only this


now. We gather at night to celebrate

being human. Sometimes we call out low


to the tambourine. Fish drink the sea,

but the sea does not get smaller! We


eat the clouds and evening light. We

are slaves tasting the royal wine.



Right now it is snowing heavily on Pontiac. Makes me miss upstate a little … trying to figure out the immediate future is slow going. Each little thing dependent on the next on the next on the next … etc.


Some Kiss We Want


There is some kiss we want with

our whole lives, the touch of


spirit on the body. Seawater

begs the pear to break its shell.


And the lily, how passionately

it needs some wild darling! At


night, I open the window and ask

the moon to come and press its


face against mine. Breathe into

me. Close the language-door and


open the love-window. The moon

won’t use the door, only the window.



Someone who does not run

toward the allure of love

walks a road where nothing


lives. But this dove here

senses the love hawk floating

above, and waits, and will not


be driven or scared to safety.

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