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On the Day You Left
On the day you left,
The geese cried out and the trees sighed
For the loss of you in this world
But you only laughed
And flew away to join the Beloved.
You became the river that sings the praises to the One
And also gives the water to nourish all those who need drink
I drink from the river, and you flow into my being
I listen to the wind sigh through the trees and hear your songs
I listen to the geese cry and I hear your laughter
You never really left - an energy, a lifeforce ebbs from the pillow
Where you once lay your head
In the darkness I turn, and I see the outline of your body
Still asleep next to me.
In my dreams we talk, you laugh and smile and hold me close
You never really left. You went on to the Reality,
While I stayed behind
In the Dream.
- to my beloved Ishaq, on Christmas evening, 2006
When I sit by the river, watching the whirlpools
That live where you once played
I see your dance in the cosmos played out
Over all of nature
The rocks have been carved into heart shapes
On the little beach
And the singing of the water
Is the music of the spheres.
There is loneliness here, too
For the loss of your bodily form
The silence all around me
And then a bird calls out, three, four, five repetitions
As if to say, I go on and on - nothing is done.
You will go on, too
Joining your beloved one day
In the dance that knows no ending.
- Poem #2, December 26, 2006
Across Time
Across time your voice comes back to me,
Your voice singing in devotion from a place
Where you didn’t yet exist for me…
So amazing these vehicles of memory,
Brought forth from years and zikrs past!
I hear you speak, gently as was your wont, in the circle,
A gentle reminder to always be in that place of remembrance.
And here I am, remembering you,
As I listen to you sing in a space from long ago
In remembrance of you, my beloved,
Always.
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Flannel
I pull the flannel of your shirt closer to me
as the winds howl outside and the rain pours down.
I can imagine that it is your arms, wrapped around me
shielding me and warming me.
Spring is coming soon, but you won't be here to see it -
At least not in a physical sense.
The trees are already showing the pink blossoms,
and the daffodils have bloomed.
A vase of them sits next to your picture,
where you stand, wearing this shirt
that I wear now.
Your eyes smile back at me from the photograph;
You lean against a fence,
with the wild river and mountains behind you,
as if you could turn and fly down that gorge at any second.
I pull the shirt closer about me,
a remnant of your physical being,
still wrapped around me,
still keeping me warm.
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Your gifts now are the feathers
That fall like messages from the heavens
I find them at my feet as I walk, calling your name
The loss is always there, but there is a growing as well
A feeling of fulfillment of your purpose
To be a guide, as always!
I’m going first, you seem to say
So you can learn from my leaving
And find the way to the longing for union
That I once experienced
Your zikrs sigh through the trees
And the birds sing Al humdullilah! to the forest.
I gather the feathers, your words to me.
And hold them close to my heart,
As once I held you near.
Your love is here yet.
It fills me with gratitude
For your gifts from the winged ones,
Your messengers from the other side.
- Poem #3, December 26, 2006
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