Poetry
Trish contemplates life in the desert. (Red Sea Desert, Egypt September 2002)
Lovers, listen!
The time to leave this world has come
My inner ear can hear
the heavenly drum sounding, 'let's go!'
Look! The camel driver is awake.
The camels are ready.
If you are a traveller,
why are you still sleeping?
Everywhere is the din of departure.
Each moment a soul is setting off into the Void.
You've fallen into a deep sleep;
as heavy as this life is light.
Soul, look for the Soul!
Friend, look for the Friend!
Watchmen should watch out, not doze off!
The streets are full of candles and torches, clamor and confusion,
for tonight this changing world
gives birth to something eternal.
You were desert dust, but are now the wind.
You were foolish, but are now made wise.
-- Jalaludin Rumi
(Way Of The Desert, pg.7)
A Hymn In Praise of RA The Sun-God
Blessing to You,
fierce fiery hawk,
as dreadful and beautiful as love.
Your light has burst upon the land,
like yellow pollen on a bee's back.
The gods are all singing,
intoxicated with your light.
It is RA who gathers the world together,
springing from the formless water,
and taking the form of fire.
Like the first word,
he is uttered from the horizon's mouth.
Like music he passes through the heavens.
As long as the sun sings,
the strings of my lyre-like heart
vibrate a hymn in unison with him.
Until evening, may I walk under the sun,
forgetting time and reason.
May I explode with light,
like a purple flower of rememberance.
The air cracks and the sun beats its rhythm.
Everyday - the sun.
Everyday.
-- Ancient Egyptian Hymn
(Way Of The Desert, pg.9)
The Invitation
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's
longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams,
For the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring with your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow,
If you have been opened by life's betrayals
Or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain: mine or your own; without moving to hide it, fade
it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy: mine or your own;
If you can dance with the wildness and let the ecstasy fill you
To the tips of your fingers and toes
Without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, or to remember the limitations of
being a human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself;
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it not pretty every day,
And if you can source your life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine,
And still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon:
"YES!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair,
Weary and bruised to the bone,
And do what needs to be done for the children.
It doesn't matter to me who you are, how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself,
And if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
-- Oriah Mountain Dreamer
(Indian Elder, May 1994)
"There's a long, long trail a-winding
Into the land of my dreams,
Where the nightingales are singing
And a white moon beams:
There's a long, long night of waiting
Until my dreams all come true;
Till the day when I'll be going down
That long, long trail with you."
-- Stoddard King
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