Tag Archives: community

Hafiz – Poem 40

May 16, 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 39:

Peace in both realms
Depends on your interpretation
Of these two utterances

“Be merciful with friends”

“Be tolerant of foes”

Some thoughts:

I’m not sure what two realms Hafiz is conceptualizing in this poem. There are so many options including: private life v. public life; religious life v. secular life; inner existence v. outer existence; human/earthly realm v. spiritual/divine realm; etc. I am going to keep it simple and consider the two realms “those who think like us” v. “those who do not think like us” as a simple way of saying “friend” or “foe.” That could apply to a number of different realms and is certainly relevant in current society where so much seems to balance on scales of dichotomy. Liberal v. Conservative; Rich v. Poor; Science v. Religion; Nature v. Progress; etc. We tend to be painted into black and white corners in nearly every conversation we enter.

I think Hafiz is suggesting that true peace depends on the way we perceive the gray areas that are not so easy to navigate. Can we be friends with someone who fails us? Those we love often hurt us the most because we care about their opinions and count on them. Can we be soft and loving to maintain relationships with those closest to us, even during the tough times? They are only human. And with our foes, can we allow for complexity and seek to understand without dehumanizing, othering, and judging too harshly? They are only human.

We will never have peace if we demand our way is the only way and there can be no other. Yes, we should have ideals, but then we must be merciful, tolerant, and gentle in our application of those principles as regards others. Can we hold compassion for those close to us and restraint toward those who oppose us? Will our differences and our interactions expand our hearts or harden them? The way we interpret these concepts holds the key to lasting peace.

My Poem 40:

Loving another means
accepting that they are human,
with all that entails,
including:
lateness, forgetfulness, distraction,
fear, ailments, impatience, frustration,
weakness, faults, arguments, disappointment,
and the list could go on…

The other we love may be friend or foe.
Both are in the same category of human,
with all that entails,
including:
beating heart, breathing lungs, thoughts,
opinions, feet to walk away, mouths that open,
hands that ball up into fists and clasp in prayer,
and the list could go on…

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

Essays, Writing

Black Girl, Call Home (Book Review)

May 1, 2026 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

I just finished reading a fabulous book of poetry by Jasmine Mans called Black Girl, Call Home. Her dedication is written “For Mommy and Nana”, which spoke to me because I recently lost my grandmother and have been thinking about my relationships with my mother(s), daughter(s), and granddaughters. Her poems are commentary on world events, pop culture, race, gender, sex, family, you name it. Nothing is off limits for a poetic turn of phrase for Ms. Mans. I admire her fierce, unflinching insistence on speaking her true voice about topics I have never been brave enough to write about.

Rather than sharing my thoughts, I thought I would share a few lines of Mans’ poetry.

On mothers: I resent my mother / for things she has sacrificed / on my behalf.

On mothers: I know grace and mercy was raised / by the same single mother.

On God: I have reason to believe / God made dandelions / and metaphors / on the same day.

On Jay-Z: If we past kneeling, / How come we ain’t past dying?

On death: He died / as if / God / thought / he / outstayed / the welcome / in his own skin.

On Kanye (& the Black Aunties): …we know / we made you, / and who are we / to just let / our sister’s son / die?

On Whitney: She sits on an octave / past heaven… / A choir of collateral… / Enough voice to stretch / across the Pacific or the ghetto…

On time: Time / is a Black girl / tapping her red, / 4-inch / nails, against / a mahogany / kitchen table / on Springfield Ave.

There are poems in honor of Serena & Venus Williams, Michelle Obama, Sandra Bland, Halle Bailey, Alysia Harris, Sean Bell, a whole list of women who were sterilized without consent by American doctors, Henrietta Lacks and her immortal cells, a list of missing black girls, lovers, exes, and relatives, including parents, siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles, as well as friends, neighbors, shop owners, and community members. She speaks with a bold, clear voice as a Black, queer, feminist. And I am inspired to broaden the scope of fodder for poetic consideration.

Mans, Jasmine, Black Girl, Call Home, Penguin Random House, 2021.

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

Poetry, Writing

Hafiz – Poem 37

April 28, 2026 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

Hafiz’s Poem 37:

In our neighborhood we care
Only for broken hearts

If you are peddling ego
Take it to the other side of town

Some thoughts:

Around these parts, we expect you to be genuine (pronounced “gin-you-wine.”) Your word is your bond. A handshake is iron clad. Our currency is honest to goodness salt of the earth authenticity. I’m pretending Hafiz is from the South. The parts of the South that truly honor integrity and character as proof of moral fortitude. There’s no room for someone who’s gotten too big for their britches. Too many sheriffs and other metaphors that are getting lost in the weeds.

The point is that Hafiz wanted to live in a community that valued real dyed-in-the-wool neighbors, the Mr. Rogers kind. People whose hearts were open to love and kindness, who were not self-serving and selfish. Anyone coming into that type of community and trying to appeal to pride and better than logic would not fit in, would not be welcome, would not fare well. Go elsewhere with that toxic culture of competition and keeping up with the Joneses. Here in our neighborhood, we help one another, take care of each other, and have the humble brokenness to admit when we need to lean on someone’s shoulder.

My Poem 37:

Would you look what the cat drug in.

Of course you are always welcome to show up around these parts, so long as you leave your muddy boots at the door. Don’t go and make me mop again today.

I’ve got a casserole in the oven and a pitcher of iced tea brewin’.

How ‘bout you pull up a seat and tell me what you’ve been up to since I saw you last. Goodness knows it’s been ages since we’ve caught up. Don’t mind me; I’m usually doin’ chores ‘til I fall in bed, but I can listen while I work.

How’s your mama? Everybody doin’ ok after that last flood? We lost our chicken coop and two outer sheds, but our trailer’s still standin’, so we can’t complain.

Can I send you home with some eggs? We’ve got plenty to spare. To tell you the truth, I’m kind of sick of egg salad sandwiches these days. Up to my eyeballs in ‘em. Wish it was closer to Easter. I’d dye a bunch for the neighborhood kids.

You can’t stay for dinner? Well, I understand. But at least let me pack you up a few servings in a Tupperware. Don’t you argue with me.

Here you go. Be safe out there and come back now, you hear?

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

Poetry, Writing

Hafiz – Poem 31

February 26, 2026 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

Hafiz’s Poem 31:

Our hands are short

The dates
High up on the tree

Some thoughts:

There are so many different directions this poem could go. The dates, out of reach so high up the tree, could represent a goal, a desire, nourishment, or a promise of sweetness, joy deferred. In Hafiz’s Persian culture, they would have been a staple, part of many recipes as a sweetener. The inability to reach the fruit could represent our human limitations, our need for community, or the recognition that we must learn to think outside the box. There are ways to get to the fruit that don’t involve growing longer arms. We can climb, get a ladder, shake the tree, wait until it gets ripe enough to fall, ask for help from others, etc. Perhaps the poem is asking us to ponder our needs and determine what it is we most need to learn from the situation. Do we need to develop patience and wait for the fruit to fall? Do we need to learn to ask for help and get support from our community? Do we need to develop some initiative and do some problem-solving to get our needs met? Do we need to take a class in date harvesting to gather more information about our dilemma? Like I said, there are many ways to look at this and any of them could be a great lesson, depending on our circumstances.

My Poem 31:

I want to be rich enough to pay
my bills on the day they are due,
if not early each month.

I want to be so rich, the only thing
I worry about is who to help next
with the extra money I’ve earned.

I want to be the kind of rich
that goes grocery shopping
without tabulating a total as I go.

I want to be richer than it takes
to retire all the great-grandparents
in our family so they can rest.

I want to be the richest person
who still drives a Toyota Camry
and lives in a multi-generational home.

I want rich written all over my receipts
for paying off every school loan
for every relative and friend I know.

I want richer than rich opportunities
to flow into every household of every
human on earth who wishes others well.

I want to richify our schools, hospitals,
libraries, daycares, nursing homes,
and animal shelters with infinite abundance.

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

Health, Poetry, Writing

I Live in a Village

February 16, 2024 rebekahjmarshall Leave a comment

(Poem 46 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/elYkSk and

I live in a village
with supportive women
surrounding me
and I am loved.
A miniature donkey
greets me like
a doting dog
begging for treats,
and a chicken
follows me everywhere
I go because she
loves sitting in my
lap while I write.
As a child, I never
longed for this life;
it just happened
when I was busy
doing the business
of being my best
self and nurturing
the guests who
show up in need
of a crust of bread
and a cool glass of
water on their
journey home.

@Home Studio – 46^th poem of the year