I was ever stone
Upon the granite peak
Allah gave me frost
Into the fissures
He dropped seed
Wildflowers grew

Asleep I ever flowed
Allah placed boulders in
My Path
Now my rapids sing of seas
I know my destination
That Ocean of One

My heart was ever desert
Unfit for even camel
Sorrow, pain and suffering
Allah placed before my eyes
I wept and knew compassion
My tears a garden grew
Of kindness and of giving
To others duty too

I thought I knew love
Wife, children, siblings, cats
That song by Leonard Cohen
All a weak brew
Allah took, took, took
Gave me loss until
I turned, I drank of Him
Then He alone I loved
Then He took my love

Lord of every universe
Designer of the jinn
Stars and moons and Light
Space to put them in
Out of nothing He awoke
Sang a song of all Creation

There is only the One
He was I
I am He
All is made of Love

There is only Love

Why do I write?
This you ask me.

These things you should ask:

Why did my father hate,
Spew spiteful slander over dinner,
So often erupt in rage,
Hammer, pound me
With words like nails,
Make me small,
Frightened always.
Ask the size of his belt,
The feel of his fingers
At my throat.

Ask why Mother
So often confided
I shamed her,
Embarrassed her.
Ask why,
When women came
For cards, drink and laughter,
I hid beneath my bed,
Stopped up my ears
Against their cackles
Down the hall.

Why do I write?

Ask why the Sufis found me,
Why in traveled towns
Bookstores bade me enter,
Where the sweet scent of baraka
Would lead to a single perfect text
Upon a shelf.

Ask the purpose of
My existence.
Sufis suggest
We were given Life
Such that through our eyes
The Creator may view
The beauty of all she created.

Then ask why I write.

Ask
What is family?
My entire life
I have searched for such
To call my own.
You, you are family.
Am I not like you,
You like me,
Awake in the Night
Fitting words
Here, there and there,
Fitting pieces of life to a page,
Hoping to fit  beauty
To one another’s hearts.

Now ask why I write.

I write for myself.
I write for you.
I write for God.

I watch,
For I am you
And you are me.

I watch.
I dive, I surface,
I spin the horizon round,
Yet round again. Sky wide
I stretch my arms, my eyes,
My very Heart for you.

I watch.
I know your pain,
The tattered, little scraps
Of memory, the
Longing, oh God
The longing for our long lost
Home.
Did we not polish our hearts
To sacred chalice,
Pray and sing
Each ancient chant?
Now,
Like sounding whales
We stink of sorrow.

I watch.
I know the moments
Fierce yearning gnaws the gut.
Walking sticks you gather,
Wind and water silvered,
Wood turned twin to
Our own bones of stone.

I watch,
Let loose a tear.
You check your pouch of Medicine,
Your hoard of magic words.
There are fallen stars For Beauty and for Light,
Shark teeth and lobster claw
For cutting and for pain.

I watch.
The ceaseless longing
Pulls you from the Sea.
You climb the sands,
Climb from sight,
My wandering pilgrim
Leaving sacred word pagodas
Upon the foreign land.

I watch.
This day do not die into the Night
That passes into Light.
Return to me,
Return to us.
We are all but little waves
Rising and falling in and out of
That great ocean of all,
That ocean of Love,
The One.

Return Adriana.
I am you.
You are me.
I will touch your hair and
Whisper in your ear.

I will sing to you like Orca.