Tag Archives: integrity

Hafiz – Poem 38

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 38:

I’m not the color of hypocrisy
Either I am a red lion
Or a black serpent

Some thoughts:

I must admit that I am not at all certain of my interpretation of this one. It certainly seems to be along the similar vein of lukewarm water that is repugnant in the Bible verse of the New Testament. Be hot or cold, confident and decisive, real and certain, as opposed to waffling and on the fence. It reminds me a bit of the quote by Yann Martel in Life of Pi when the main character says, “It is not atheists who get stuck in my craw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for a while…but we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation.” I do not agree with that take, but understand the passion behind the utterance.

The sentiment I do agree with is that of being authentic rather than performative. Whatever the red lion and black serpent represent, they are the poet’s honest opinions. He is claiming that he will not speak untruth merely to save face or impress a certain crowd. Though the opinion may not be well received, might be complex, might be considered too intense, or venture into unsanctioned territory, he would rather speak his truth than be false or diluted.

I’m sorry, good teacher, but I am quite the fence sitter about some things. It is not always a comfortable position to be in, and one might argue, requires balance, a level head, and an open mind. We will have to agree to disagree for now, though that would also require fence-sitting, so you probably would not agree. lol

My Poem 38:

Rippling ember mane
flows like sun-blood
from roaring flame,
molten courage lava hot,
intense burning marrow
dissolves any tangled knot.

Coiled hidden spine,
a dark river eclipsed
by shadowed night,
deep as space unseen
conceals sudden movement,
striking stragglers of the in between.

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

Martel, Yann. Life of Pi. Harcourt, 2001.

The Bible. Authorized King James Version, Oxford UP, 1998.

Hafiz – Poem 37

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 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.

Hafiz – Poem 34

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 34:

Good were the times
Being with the Friend
All else – fruitlessness
& ignorance

Some thoughts:

I am choosing to interpret the Friend as love/God/integrity/connectedness. Any time spent in that state is Good. Like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, it was very good. They were very good. All was good because they were experiencing that love and connectedness on tap. Everything else that is done with thoughtlessness, anger, a lack of compassion, or without care is probably meaningless. It is only in those times of being online with our higher selves, plugged in to that higher consciousness that comes with being one with the Friend, that our experiences are meaningful and fruitful.

Today, am I connected to the Friend and finding purpose in my thoughts and actions? Or am I disconnected and just going through the motions? Am I present or distracted? Are my choices sincere or performative? We can sense when our self is acting from a place of integrity vs. when we are simply reacting and flailing about uncentered.

My Poem 34:

Good times await the kind of friends
who finish each other’s sentences
and pick up threads of conversation
from years past like it was yesterday.

Days spent apart are meaningless,
unable to mark time because no
witness can claim shared experience
without the presence of the other.

To fill the void with woven energetic
nuance recognized by spilt laughter
and resonance, they need only make
eye contact to collapse the distance.

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

Hafiz – Poem 30

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 30:

The Alley of Prestige
Is not for us

If you don’t like it
Try changing Justice

Some thoughts:

Alleys are narrow, hidden, not the usual route the rest of us walk down to get where we’re going. Since Hafiz calls this an Alley of Prestige, I imagine he is talking about a passageway where most would not be welcome. It is probably where the top echelon of society rub elbows on their way to somewhere fancy and exclusive. I don’t think these are the people striving for healthy excellence, but perhaps those competing for fame and admiration. He is saying that people who are walking the Way of Love of taking a different route. We have different priorities.

It doesn’t mean we can’t have success or wealth or any of the other abundant blessings that are meant to come our way, but it should not be the goal of our actions. And if we don’t like the fact that the Way of Love does not chase prestige, our issue is with Justice. Reality is structured such that true pursuit of divine love requires the collapse of ego-seeking. If we spend all our time trying to rig the system, play the game of hierarchy, and resent not being admired, we might not be on the right path. We should not be focused on climbing the social ladder, competing for favor, or performing for prestige. Integrity, humility, and honor may not always get the applause, but they are on the side of Justice.

My Poem 30:

Wouldn’t it be lovely
if the people rewarded
with the most prestige,
the biggest salaries,
and the praise and glory
were the people who give
of themselves every day
for the sake of others?

-nurses who lift and check
and wipe and console
and heal and save and carry
our burdens when we are at
our weakest and most
vulnerable.

-teachers who fill the minds
of the next generation
and inspire our greatest
creators of the future.

-health aids who do the dirty
work of managing these failing
bodies when they are at their worst.

-classroom aids who sit beside
the child who needs the help,
patience of a saint corralling
the minds least open
to knowledge.

-daycare workers who
raise the babies while
their parents must work.

-librarians who solve
and guide and suggest
and provide the hope
and light of promise
books represent for all.

Not that politicians
and football players
and Wall Street traders
don’t have important
functions in society,
but I’ve never wept
in one of their arms
as I struggled with fear
and pain and been
comforted
by their wisdom
and compassion.

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

Hafiz – Poem 23

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 23:

Strive to be truthful

& the sun will be born

From your breath

Some thoughts:

I love that Hafiz is not demanding perfection, but the striving for truthfulness. It is the progress toward integrity and spiritual alignment that is the thing. The working toward that truthfulness can be hard. It takes effort to be sincere, to say the hard things when the soft things might be easier, to remain steadfast when on the hotseat. Pushing through those moments becomes the clarifying piece of the puzzle that builds the habit of honesty.

Only when we are turning the soil of our souls can the dawn rise from within us. Truth creates a reality where beautiful life can be lived each day with a clean conscience. It is through our breath that we speak forth words, which is the main way we communicate. Life is in the breath. Is it so radical to speak truth, rather than propaganda, lies, distortions, accusations, and misinformation? Apparently so. Hafiz says striving to speak truthfully ends the dark night and renews the morning with promise and hope. It is enough to bring life.

My Poem 23:

Day breaks,

revealing a rising sun

which was there all along,

merely waiting for us to wake up.

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

Lead With Grace

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

To lead with grace
requires steel humility
when praised
and iron confidence
when cursed,
for either extreme
wields the awful
temptation to unsettle
the serene pond of self.
To yield to right
and bow only to integrity
fills her people
with love overflowing,
willing to sacrifice all
in service to her rule.

Jimmy Carter

(Poem 357 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

A righteous man puts others before himself,
serves his community with humility and grace,
and is faithful to his vows, both to God and man.

Born on a farm, no running water, no electricity,
salt of the earth, family man, believer in human rights,
treating people with dignity, and freedom of religion.

He was the first president to talk about climate change,
an environmentalist at heart, a lover of the earth, supported
renewable energy by putting solar panels on the White House.

He signed legislation to manage hazardous waste,
protected over 100 million acres of Alaskan land,
and more than doubled the National Park System.

He passed the Ethics in Government Act to protect
whistle-blowers, established FEMA, and was part
of some of the first emergency planning in America.

He created the Departments of Education and Energy,
and established full diplomatic relations with China,
which created the basis for our world economic system.

He championed human rights around the world and was
the first president to focus on these issues and appoint
a woman as Assistant Secretary of State for Human Rights.

Mr. President Jimmy Carter is the first president I remember,
his serious face talking about important things on our black
and white television on every single channel, interrupting.

That’s how different it was back then; when the president
spoke, everyone stopped what they were doing to listen.
I was enamored of this kind man with gentle eyes.

I knew nothing of politics, nothing of the burdens adults endured,
but I knew that this sincere man was doing what he could
to make the world a better place with every ounce of his soul.

Rest in peace, Sir; your debt to the world has been paid
with every house you helped build, person you lifted up,
oppressor you held accountable, and kindness you shared.

@Home Studio – 357th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Jimmy Carter photos to accompany my poem:

Old Tin Can

(Poem 60 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

An old tin can has myriad uses.
It can hold almost anything
that might need holding.
Used bolts, nails, and hinges,
extra screws that might come
in handy someday or never.
Paper clips, tacks, coins, even
a drink once given a good rinse.
There’s no end to its sense of
purpose when put to task.
It can keep seed safe ‘till the
next planting time comes,
trap danger in the form of
stinging things that scurry,
send sound with nothing more
than cotton string pulled taut.
It can be stacked and rolled,
kicked down the road,
thrown, crushed, and buried,
endure flame, flood, and cold.
The thing of it is the absence
of any thing that makes it
so useful because it can be
filled, drained, cherished, forgotten.
Its essence is what many
spend their lives trying to
imitate, emptying of self
opening to the possibility
of receiving and being filled.
I ‘reckon it would be quite a
compliment to be compared
to an old tin can because you
could hold your head high
knowing someone recognized
your inherent worth.

@Home Studio – 60th poem of the year

I am a woman of integrity

(Poem 50 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

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

I am a woman of integrity.
What you see is what you get—
the whole package wrapped up
in flaws, sewn together with
duct tape and staple-shaped
scars but built to endure adversity.
My O-rings maintain elasticity
no matter the cold they endure,
resilience practically my middle
name, so fire away and prepare
to launch; what could go wrong?

@Home Studio – 50th poem of the year