Poem: It takes the light

‘Writing this poem was, for me, a spiritual experience in itself, certainly Quaker. However, the line “I like to see the Sufi dancing in the morning light” is a memory of a special moment from years ago. I was in Istanbul and saw this whirling circle dance complementing the dawn sunlight.’

The martyrs bother me the most,

death and consequences defused in glory.

Then come the mighty claps of thunder,

religious ragtime and the call to prayer.

Smoldering bonfires of Lebanon

darker than the dark, they keep the hound dogs 

barking, awakening the night 

with tiny bouncing terriers jabbing at banshees 

speed-chatting the angels.

For some of us the holy modal choristers

seem like a high register, yet once the words translate

they read only a return to pouring oil into the river,

so much sin and surplice judging capacity for confession.

Better, much better are meetings when they are still,

without hallelujah and a surfeit of sermon.

I like to see the Sufi dancing in the morning light.

It takes the light to wake me up.

For light breaks in soft moth wings,

    light fluttering insights.

        Light embraces but doesn’t smother me.

            I sit beneath a tree

                and wait, contemplate

            speechlessness rustling the rim

                threading through a lip of leaves.

---

Comments

Please login to add a comment