I love watching the night sky,
it's like every star is waiting calmly
to share its story with the glistening Milky Way

"همه جا" از حافظ / "همه جا" توسط لیپستاد


Hafiz                                              ­           Lipstadt
(1320 ~ 1389)                                            (20th ~ 21st century)
——————                                           ———————­——

Running                                                    Si­tting
Through the streets                                 On the sidewalk curb
Screaming,                                                Ob­serving,

Throwing rocks through windows,     Rocks falling all around,
Using my own head to ring                  Striking my head, ringing in
Great bells,                                               Great waves of thought,

Pulling out my hair,                               My hair stands straight up,
Tearing off my clothes,                          My clothes’ fibers come alive,

Tying everything I own                        All possessions, the poems, yet
To a stick,                                                Unwritten, less valuable than,
And setting in on                                  The air that feeds the flames of
Fire.                                                         Their burning.

What else can Hafiz do tonight        What else can Lipstadt do tonight
To celebrate the madness,                  But acknowledge the truthfulness,
The joy,                                                 The madness,

Of seeing God                                      In~Exhaling God in each breath
Everywhere!                                         Everywhere!

Because i am lawn furniture

And you are Antarctica

The two of us have ample rime

But not a single drop of warmth in our blood

We lived through all the bright nameless, blameless places

And the turning of the *****

The year we fell down

In an illusion of separateness

Is where we came to know

The fragile silence

Within a map of echoing glass

Pointing further out than we once thought

Everything ravaged, everything burned

If you can see
the light at the end of the tunnel
and it's not an oncoming train

please fill me in
on what this all meant
because

lately,

I've been
stumbling and fumbling
for a poem

and can't seem to
find one

Whit Howland © 2020