Tag Archives: freedom

Hafiz – Poem 25

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 25:

Dear Hafiz

Drink up
Be a free soul
Make merry
But don’t make the Qur’an
Bait for hypocrisy
As others have done

Some thoughts:

Is it so wrong to “Eat, drink, and be merry?” Some religious people act as though being spiritual or loving God means having to be a stick in the mud and forego all fun. Hafiz is addressing this poem to himself as a reminder that he has the freedom to enjoy the abundance the world has to offer. He is not restricted and litigious about his beliefs. But on the other hand, freedom with grace is not license to debauchery either. There is a balance that must be walked like a tightrope if one is to maintain a life of love and spiritual connection.

His belief in freedom must not be taken to excess, which could make his faith seem like a farse. There must be some level of respect for the holiness of the prescribed religious doctrines and those who adhere to them meticulously. There is no need to flaunt the merry making in the face of someone who is weeping. Finding a path that respects personal spiritual autonomy and still honors the traditions and beliefs of the ancestors is not always easy. But being in community means grappling with these truths and finding a balance that works.

My Poem 25:

I think dusting intentionally
can be meditative,
spiritual,
removing the layers of past ancestors
to reveal
a shiny surface
uncluttered
by so much static noise.

Dimming the lights
and lighting a candle,
watering a plant,
petting a cat.

I’ve yet to wipe
my dog’s weeping eye
and feel nothing
because she stares
into my soul,
communing,
as if with the source
of love.

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

Hafiz – Poem 24

This image created in collaboration with Lyra (my ChatGPT partner.)

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 24:

Do you know what the harps

& the ouds proclaim?

“Drink liquor in privacy –

Or be whipped.”

Some thoughts:

Instruments are typically used in celebration, during worship, for beauty, and for enjoyment. They are also often accompanied by a singer or other instruments as part of a collaboration. It sounds as though the instruments themselves are issuing the proclamations in this poem. Perhaps there is still music, but it is staid, controlled, only permitted to be certain songs that are approved by the ruling faction. It seems the music cannot be fully silenced, though; the strings still vibrate and record the atmosphere of fear. They are testifying to the sorrow, possibly with satire in their very notes.

It has always been art and music that have carried the protest, whispering coded language, underground dissent. The message of prohibition is probably literal in this poem but stands for a much larger platform. If the government is attempting to control your behavior down to the very liquids you choose to put in your mouth, you can bet that is the least of the restrictions. Where there is tyranny and repressive laws that punish people unnecessarily, there will always be secret symbols used by dissidents to express their defiance.

The rest of these images created on Gencraft.

My Poem 24:

“Go down, Moses” means
a conductor is in the vicinity
and the time to escape is near.
“Lord, help us all from bondage flee,
Let my people go,”
Sing of Israel fleeing Egypt
and the evil pharaoh, who God
condemned for enslaving His people,
then drowned his army in the Red Sea.
“Steal away, steal away to Jesus!”
Any minute now; stay ready.
Keep your shoes on your feet,
your staff in your hand,
eat in haste, for the time draws nigh.
“Steal away, steal away home.
I ain’t got long to stay here.”
Sing of a heavenly hope and longing
to be with Jesus in His mansion.

“Wade in the water,” where scent
disappears and paths are untraceable,
dogs and men in pursuit thwarted.
Water washes away sins,
through baptism, a holy renewal,
as Israel was baptized by crossing
the Red Sea, so you shall become
new on your way to freedom,
released from your old life.
“Wade in the water, children,”
for you are God’s true children.
“God is gonna trouble these waters,”
like the angel in the Bible
who healed the first to enter
the water that had been stirred.
Fear not, for the first with the courage
to enter are blazing the path
of healing and deliverance.

“Follow the drinking gourd,” describes
the Big Dipper, which points
to the North Star, the sky guide
who is the constant companion.
“For the old man is a-waitin”—
some say was “Peg Leg Joe,”
a conductor on the railroad
who taught the routes to those
who would accept what he had to offer.
“When the sun goes back
and the first quail calls,”
means be ready in spring
“The river ends between two hills
Follow the drinking gourd
There’s another river on the other side”
A route? Directions?
A song for a map,
memory—the road to freedom.

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

Hafiz – Poem 2

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 2:

Everyone
Drives by
While I
Walk on alone

Some thoughts:

I can only relate metaphorically to this poem because walking is difficult for me. With my joint degeneration and chronic pain, driving is much more my speed. However, I respect the deeper meanings that might be of the walking-to-the-beat-of-your-own-drum sort of metaphor. If “I” am doing something that seems to be different from “Everyone,” but I believe it to be what is best for me, I must persist, despite the aloneness. Perhaps because of the aloneness.

Sometimes solitude is the best way to connect to purpose, find center, ground. The harried rush of this world can sap our energy and distract us from the quiet inner contemplation that can connect us to our better selves. We cannot be of service to others if we are barreling through life so fast we have lost our own ability to reflect, to ponder, to get to know the quiet of our own minds. It is only here that most of us can hear the still, small voice.

I’m not sure what kind of drivers were racing past Hafiz on his alone walk in the 1300s, but I assume they were carts pulled by horses and people on horseback mostly. Faster than the pace of a walker, but nothing compared to the 80mph drivers on Texas highways. My, the poems he would have written about the rush of life we live today.

My Poem 2:

My H.E.B. has electric shopping carts
for people like me to use in their store.
They are slow, so as not to endanger
other shoppers who could be run over.

They beep loudly and embarrassingly
if I need to back up for overshooting.
They are awkward for direction changes,
and can be the cause of traffic jams.

But I no longer feel anything other than
thankfulness when I drive them to shop.
The lack of pain while choosing for myself
provides autonomy and independence.

I may drag the cord behind me like a tail,
stall and get stranded by a depleted battery,
and back into the occasional display or wall,
but I move at a pace that is mine alone.

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

Juneteenth

(Poem 171 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/QTg9tw https://gencraft.ai/p/oBhyHg     https://gencraft.ai/p/jQ3tpi

Watermelon, strawberries, red sugar Kool-Aid,
fried catfish, hot links, barbecue, red velvet cake,
hibiscus tea, cornbread, greens, black eye peas,
strawberry shortcake, deviled eggs, mac and cheese,
potato salad, baked beans, strawberry pie,
sweet tea, coleslaw, and anything you can fry.

Families spending time together, off work for the day,
children at the splash pad, squealing as they play,
parades and floats, marching bands, music on blast,
celebration of freedom, remembrance of the past,
honoring the ancestors, lifting up the next generation,
supporting black businesses, praying for the nation.

@Home Studio – 171st poem of the year

Runner ups for the Juneteenth photos to accompany my poem:

Flag Day

(Poem 163 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

@Home Studio – 163rd poem of the year (See below for poem in easier to read format)

I’m not much for flying flags of any kind.
Raised a conscientious objector
in a niche religion in the Bible Belt South, I
was taught my allegiance belonged only to
God. No pledges to countries, states, or other
designations were acceptable, and certainly no        
banners representing such entities need adorn
my person, home or belongings. Yet, I’ve always
felt a swell of emotion when the National Anthem
is sung, people covering their hearts in reverence.
In recent years, I’ve learned of the Pan-African flag
that many in the black communities are adopting
to show allegiance to their roots, and the Juneteenth
flag representing when more Americans than ever
were finally rescued from enslavement. I live in Texas,
where many seem more loyal to the state flag than any
other, a people of the lone star who would once again
be fine with setting up their own country if it means
liberals stop messing in their business. I was an
adult when I realized the United States flag is an
ever-changing configuration of stars as states
are added to the union. When Flag Day was
made a federal holiday, there were only 13.
This country has grown to 50, and will
probably expand more in my lifetime.

Wicked

(Poem 66 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

Is it wicked to want love?
Some think so.
Perhaps they have never
known the power
that comes from hearts
that beat in
unison and lives that are
fated to be
intertwined like woven cords.

Is it wicked to demand respect?
Some say so.
Perhaps they have never
known the freedom
that comes from minds
open to truth
revealed by struggle and growth
after the fight
has been won and admiration earned.

Is it wicked to expect equality?
Some believe so.
Perhaps they have never
known the joy
that comes from souls
fired by flames
of cosmic boldness who know
the real story
is so much better than the lies.

@Home Studio after seeing Wicked on stage at Bass Concert Hall in Austin, Texas 3/16/24 (a Christmas give from my husband from this year) – 66th poem of the year

Wicked. Stephen Schwartz and Winnie Holzman, 2003, Bass Concert Hall, Austin, TX, 16 March, 2024.