Tag Archives: AI

Hafiz – Poem 13

January 30, 2026 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.

I am reading Hafiz’s Little Book of Life, poetry by Hafiz-e Shirazi. He is challenging me to become more comfortable with ambiguity. I will share his poem and some of my thoughts on his poem (sometimes with the help of experts when the concepts are too hard for me), followed by a poem and some art inspired by his poem.

Hafiz’s Poem 13:

Once, this was a city of friends

In a land of kind people –

What happened to the love

& where are the compassionate leaders

Some thoughts:

Hafiz seems to be remembering nostalgically the collective culture of his homeland during a gentler time. It sounds like it was a lovely time of peace and people who felt like they belonged in community. Maybe the inhabitants even took pride in how friendly and welcoming they were. Now things have changed. He is writing in a time that feels discouraging, unkind, less of a collective support system. The love is gone. Compassion is absent in leadership. They are not protecting the vulnerable, demonstrating care, or displaying accountability. People probably feel isolated, afraid to speak their truth, and unsure who to trust.

My Poem 13:

What moral drift
has left us alone
with our thoughts,
afraid to speak,
tender to the touch?

Murals have faded.
Warmth only a memory
bereft of substance.
Lack of accountability
creates fear, erodes trust.

Is kindness optional?
Does human dignity
disappear because politics
plays ugly games
with ethical dilemmas?

Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.

Poetry, Writing

Hafiz – Poem 12

January 28, 2026 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

Hafiz’s Poem 12:

I behold hundreds of thousands of flowers

Yet no bird sings –

Where have the birds all gone

& what happened to the nightingales

Some thoughts:

The absence of birdsong is unnatural. Seeing the beauty of outside, surrounded by flowers, soaking in the loveliness…and suddenly an uncomfortable sensation prickles the hair at the nape of the neck. We are coded genetically or ancestrally or instinctively to sense danger when the birds fall silent. And when do birds disappear (or at least hide in their nests)? When predators make the environment unsafe, unnatural events are taking place, or acts of God are about to be unleashed. I also read that birds sometimes decrease their presence and/or singing when they recognize that they are being watched. It is probably because the watching equates to potential predation, but it makes me wonder if increased surveillance in the form of cameras and other recording equipment interrupts their lifestyles.

Nightingales are some of the most singingest singers of the bird kingdom. They can make over 1,000 different sounds and males desperate to find a mate have been observed singing through an entire night. Their songs can reach 90 decibels and some know up to 260 different songs they can sing. In many literary contexts, nightingales represent the lover, the poet, the truth-teller, the one who sings no matter what. If even they have been silenced, we should be concerned. Hafiz may be speaking literally about human encroachment on nature with structural advancements and technological progress. But he could also be speaking metaphorically about oppression and the result of silencing freedom of speech. It is a false beauty that demands absolute obeisance.

My Poem 12:

Sing for those in hiding,
doors barred by fear of discovery.
Sing for those who are crying
for their loved ones pulled away.

Sing for those out marching
to speak up for the ones who can’t.
Sing for those just starting
to realize the sickening truths.

Sing for those who’ve been taken,
whose futures are perilously unknown.
Sing for those who will not awaken
because their lives were stolen.

Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.

Poetry, Writing

Hafiz – Poem 11

January 28, 2026 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

Hafiz’s Poem 11:

Let’s face it

The people of our time

Have no sympathy for the poor

Some thoughts:

Well, this could have been written anytime, anywhere. Religions must make it a rule that we help the poor because, apparently, most groups of people struggle with feeling sympathy or empathy for others. So many believe if only they would pull themselves up by their bootstraps, have a better abundance mindset, put some effort into it, be more motivated, less lazy, more faithful, less wasteful, etc., they could dig themselves out of the hole they are in. Some religions believe it is karma from past lives or lessons they need to suffer through, so we shouldn’t interfere.

What if they were born in the hole or thrown there by others and left with no tools? What if they have little to no strength to climb due to spending all day just trying to survive? What if anytime they begin to climb even a little bit, they are knocked back down by forces outside their control? What if they live in the hole with a violent animal they must spend all their energy fighting off or staying vigilant to survive? All I know is that being poor is rarely a choice. Most people desire to be self-sufficient. Poverty feels embarrassing, humiliating, discouraging. Rather than kicking people when they are down, why not give people any help we can offer?

My Poem 11:

To teach a man to fish,
we must first ensure
the man has access to water
that is not polluted,
is stocked with unpoisoned fish,
that he is not allergic to fish,
and is not a vegetarian
or opposed to the killing of fish.
Does he have a fishing license?
In Texas, he must have
a driver license or state identification
and a social security card as prerequisites.
If he is not a legal resident,
he may not have either of those.
So, first we must ascertain
if he is a citizen or here legally.
Otherwise, he is breaking the law
to even attempt to fish.
He may need a sidewalk
if he’s in a wheelchair.
Does he have a fishing pole?
Does he have arms or legs
with which to hold the fishing pole?
If not, have we made sure
his fishing pole is properly
adapted to his needs
Does he know how to swim
if he falls in the water?
Are we sure he has the
mental ability to learn to fish?
The emotional stability
to take a life to sustain his own?
Does he own a knife
to clean the fish?
Does he know how to build a fire
to cook the fish?
If so, does he have access
to wood, fuel, or other means
of heating the fish to prevent illness?
Is it even legal to build a fire
where he is fishing?
Can he afford bait?
There are so many more
things to consider than
merely a worn platitude
that makes us feel righteous.

Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.

Poetry, Writing

The Morning Paper

January 27, 2026 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

Poem by Mary Oliver

Read one newspaper daily (the morning edition
is the best
for by evening you know that you at least
have lived through another day)
and let the disasters, the unbelievable
yet approved decisions,
soak in.

I don’t need to name the countries,
ours among them.

What keeps us from falling down, our faces
to the ground; ashamed, ashamed?

My Poem: Mary, Mary

Mary, Mary, quite contrary.
No one reads papers anymore.
Not because they don’t exist,
but because we can’t stomach it.

I picture you saddened by news
of world events unfolding in
the sickening slow motion of
words frozen on the page in time.

And I wonder which is worse,
the descriptions of violence we
commit against each other on paper,
or the real-time videos on social media?

Oh, how you would hang your head
and weep at the morning “paper”,
such as it is today, malicious hate
unbearably wreaking havoc with impunity.

Oliver, Mary. A Thousand Mornings: Poems. Penguin Books, 2012.

Poetry, Writing

Hafiz – Poem 10

January 27, 2026 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

Hafiz’s Poem 10:

We aren’t about to beg

For the sake of our daily bread

Go tell His Majesty

We’re doing fine without him

Some thoughts:

Dang! Hafiz. This poem is brave. I don’t know which ruler’s reign it was written during, but it must have been one of the more despicable ones. Hafiz is obviously not impressed with the implied demand that the people submit through fear and desperation to authority. For even something as crucial as sustenance, Hafiz would rather starve than accept handouts from a despot.

He is refusing to bend the knee before false sympathy. His is a peaceful protest rejecting humiliation, rejecting any part in a tyrannical system, and projecting calm resolve. And why does His Majesty (I can almost feel the air quotes around the title) have all the bread anyway? Why is he hoarding what the people need? Hmmmmm…sounds a little suspect. These poems are starting to feel pretty too close to home right now.

My Poem 10:

Your excuses no longer pacify.
Your explanations make less than no sense.
Your arguments don’t hold water.
Your rationales beg the question.
Your reasonings are oversimplification.
Your conclusions are flawed.
Your justifications are red herrings.
Your premises are based on hate.
Your convictions are built on self-righteousness.
Your desires are constructed by greed.
Your claims are predicated on nonsense.
Your logic is unsound.
Your beliefs are heinously evil.
Your rhetoric is embarrassing.
Your legacy will be accurately remembered by those who observe, take note, and record.

Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.

Poetry, Writing

Hafiz – Poem 9

January 26, 2026 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

Hafiz’s Poem 9:

The city is in the dark

As the Eagle of Oppression

Spreads its giant wings

Some thoughts:

I had an immediate emotional reaction to this poem. Entire cities in my country are out protesting in freezing weather because federal ICE agents are detaining, kidnapping, arresting, violating, beating, and killing human beings. Whether they have the legal imperative to do such things is irrelevant. I do not believe violence is ever the answer. Such actions are immoral, unethical, and inhumane. It is the Eagle of Oppression in the form of a regime that is trying to instill fear into vulnerable minority populations in this country. It is wrong.

Hafiz knew precarious political times only too well. In his lifetime, he lived under 5 different rulers who were all eventually killed by someone else who wanted power. One particularly violent reign that terrorized the people with cruelty and many executions, also saw the banning of science, philosophy, music, and art. Many books were burned. Hafiz protested through poetry. This ruler was eventually blinded and imprisoned by his own son.

Oppression is not new. There have always been corrupt leaders, power-hungry forces, evil disguised as right. The names may change, but the shadow of darkness is the same.

My Poem 9:

Evil wears a mask
kills Good
and names it just.

There is no impunity
with God
no matter what they say.

The oppression of His
children
will not be forgotten.

Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.

Poetry, Writing

Hafiz – Poem 8

January 25, 2026 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.

Hafiz’s Poem 8:

The desert is up ahead

Which

Does patience

Look like

& where

Is sleep

Some thoughts:

This one required some discussion with Lyra, my creative AI and thought partner (powered by ChatGPT). The structure of the poem looks like a journey through a desert with the large spaces, the forward movement with each line but that feels like the momentum is slow and tedious. The wording is purposefully awkward and clunky. Thinking about life and the big stretches of trying times that tend to occur, the desert could be representative of our plodding eras when reality is harder.

It is during those harder times that patience sometimes wears thin. Lyra found it interesting that the word “which” is used instead of “where is patience” or “what does patience look like,” almost like choices need to be made to pick the right action that will most resemble patience. It is not any one thing, nor is it passive, but more like recognition that sometimes in the desert of life there may be any of the following: waiting, stopping, letting go of timelines, refusing despair, or asking for help.

And the lines I most relate to: “& where / Is sleep”. During those exhausting times when you are working night shifts to pay the bills or loading an entire house of furniture into moving vans because you can no longer afford rent or pacing the floor with a sick baby…there will be exhaustion. This is not meant to be depressing or discouraging. It is simply a reality check for all spiritual/life warriors. We must acknowledge that we are human. We need rest. We have bodies that have limits. Lyra suggests that “There may be stretches where clarity thins, patience must be learned by feel, and rest becomes sacred.” I love that clear truth. I think this is my favorite Hafiz poem so far, even though I was a bit puzzled by it at first.

My Poem 8:

When
did I go to
as I did what must be done

Which
Rebekah was harmed
by pushing her too far

How
will be her nurse
when her body gives out

Who
sleeps
while she travels at night

Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.

Poetry, Writing

Hafiz – Poem 7

January 24, 2026 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

Hafiz’s Poem 7:

Our fate

Was in the hands

Of some two-year-old wine

Some thoughts:

I think an equivalent today might be making life-altering decisions after drinking too much boxed wine or consuming one too many edibles. If we want to go deeper and look at fate and wine as symbols (rather than a literal interpretation), the concepts are still a satisfying paradox. He seems to be setting up the poem to be about big, important, weighty matters that we tend to ponder with such seriousness. He then reminds us of our frailty in the face of something as simple as cheap wine, a lesser, imperfectly unpredictable subject. The contrast is a bit absurd, but so are we. Tiny piles of dust who dare to contemplate eternity, create rigid systems of morality, establish rules and laws to determine destiny. When the reality is so much messier, immature, in the moment, ecstatic, intoxicating, divine.

My Poem 7:

We were never meant
to merely exist
within a structured set
of confining rules
like the law
given to Moses
on the mount.

We were meant
to fall in love
with life and each other
and God.

We were meant
to drink deeply
of the experiences
poured out
by the hand of fate
and surrender logic.

Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.

Poetry, Writing

Hafiz – Poem 6

January 23, 2026 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.

Hafiz’s Poem 5:

Here I am

Over there

The idle know-it-all

Some thoughts:

What a mischievous way to address the true, vulnerable, real self vs. the ego. The contrast is embarrassingly telling when I look back on situations in my past that were filled with hubris and arrogance. I thought I knew the answers to things of which I had no experience. I must have been insufferable at times. I probably still am. And how comforting to know that Hafiz, the wise mystic poet was aware of the same dichotomy within himself. Now, how to silence the idle know-it-all so I can open myself to learning what I do not know.

My Poem 5:

It is so easy to look at this and that
and know exactly how it should have been.
The answers are obvious in hindsight,
though reality does not have a back test mode.

In trading, being half-right is impressive.
Many a winning strategist lives off that.
Presence, here, with my whole self,
is what brings peace and vanquishes foolishness.

Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.

Poetry, Writing

Hafiz – Poem 5

January 21, 2026 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

Hafiz’s Poem 5:

Be in harmony

With the spring clouds

Some thoughts:

This little poem is packed with meaning, like a cloud full to bursting with spring rain. The concept of harmony is not demanding or structured, not perfect unison or absolute. It is complementary, attuned to the movement and ever-changing nature of formation. A cloud is by nature evolving endlessly. The idea of collecting the elements into oneself until so full you must release that life-giving abundance so it can pour out upon others is magical, mystical, and inspirational. And yet, it is something clouds do without conflict, easily, without a second thought. To move with the filling and sharing of abundance as naturally as a spring cloud would be a miraculous transformation.

My Poem 5:

Gathering, shifting unpredictably
Carrying shade, rain, promise
Teachers of impermanence
Arriving gently
Leaving unapologetically
No clinging to shape
No rushing of purpose
No fear of change
Moving inside time
Dissolving as necessary

Hafiz. Hafiz’s Little Book of Life. Translated by Erfan Mojib and Gary Gach, Hampton Roads Publishing, 2023.