Tag Archives: poems

Hafiz – Poem 40

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.

Hafiz – Poem 39

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:

Forgive the warring of the 72 nations
Not having seen the truth
They’ve gone down the road of fantasy

Some thoughts:

This poem took a little digging to learn about the number 72 in mystical Sufism and other Islamic cultural contexts. Apparently, it was a known phrase representing division or splits that people would have recognized as symbolic, rather than literal. The idea of 72 sects or religious groups became shorthand for fragmentation of what was once unified in hadith literature and early Islamic traditions. For Hafiz to mention 72 nations was to at once tap into phrasing his audience would recognize as representative of all the human groups of the world.

What is even more interesting to me is that he is not condemning all these nations for their shortsightedness but asking for their forgiveness. “They know not what they do.” They are caught in “the illusion” rather than recognizing the truth of peace and harmony. All the nations of the earth come from the same source. We all return to the same source after death. Why not live united in kindness, shared humanity, and communal peace during our short time in this reality? Such a question we could pose to the 197 nations in existence on our planet right now.

My Poem 39:

Can you truly not see
the shimmering promise
of a peaceful tomorrow?

The glow of city lights lies just over the horizon
where nation shall not rise up against nation.

This morass of darkness and despair
is not the truth you seek in your waiting
but merely an illusory nonsensical hellscape.

Continue to put one foot
in front of the other until you reach
the promised land of unity and peace,
where bees drip honey into mouths
open only to speak kind words,
and dams nurse calves languidly,
without fear of being separated by war.

Flowers are grown along every path purely
for making friendship wreaths and decorative
garlands to be given away free of cost or consequence
because nothing is required nor demanded of citizens
in this place beyond breath and awareness and love.

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

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.

Black Girl, Call Home (Book Review)

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.

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 36

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 36:

Alas for the mockers of those
Who drink life to the very dregs

Only to abandon their own beliefs
At the open door of any tavern
Where their faith will be restored

Some thoughts:

Hafiz supposedly has double meanings in many of his poems, according to various experts. In this one, he could be talking about real drinking/partying, or the spiritual equivalent of feeling everything deeply, including joy, sorrow, and love. The people willing to drink to the dregs are the ones there until closing time. The real Mcoys. The mockers are those who set themselves up in judgment of and ridicule those kinds of people. Whether judgment of the literal drunkards or judgment of the deeply emotional/openly vulnerable/ecstatically connected people. Both can look rather similar to the untrained eye.

Either way, the reversal is the heart of this poem. The very people who judge others for their predisposition to revelry, might be the ones who crave it most. They can’t let themselves go, but when given the chance or suddenly set free to experience something ecstatic, they are the wildest ones you’ve ever seen. So much tightly wound, principled, rigorous defense of faith can sometimes reveal a lot about a person. They are just waiting for that moment to be unleashed, to experience, to feel something. And only then will they get it. The only way to connect is to leap into the unknown and grab for the ring or trapeze or whatever metaphor works.

Now, as a recovering alcoholic, I can’t finish without adding a cautionary note. I am not suggesting real alcoholics go live it up and fall off the wagon. Those of us with the disease of alcoholism and who are in recovery have already had our substance-induced revelry experiences and should have now graduated to the more spiritual/emotional side of celebration. Learning to find the depth of love, sit in grief, experience the full spectrum of emotions life puts us through without altering our brain chemistry IS drinking to the dregs the way Hafiz means it. It is learning to live fully, without needing to escape. And nary a one of us should sit in judgment of anyone going through the same hell of the disease of alcoholism that we have been through.

My Poem 36:

When you get sober
no one explains how much
you’ll miss turning off your brain.
It’s something you discover
when the thoughts won’t stop,
and you have to process the pain.

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

Hafiz – Poem 33

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 33:

Adam gave up Paradise

For just one nice ripe apple

What if one world is only worth

One hard stale raisin

?

Some thoughts:

This poem feels a little cheeky. Irony keeps the interpretation in question. If Adam was willing to give up Paradise for an apple, was it worth it? What did he gain? Is Hafiz suggesting that the fall was an opportunity for growth? Most religious leaders of Abrahamic faiths would argue that such thinking is blasphemous, yet Hafiz goes on to ask about the possibility that such a trade could occur for even less of a temptation, a hard stale raisin. Maybe the eating of the fruit was not really of any consequence. Perhaps the development of knowing right and wrong, choosing free will, embarking on an individual hero’s journey was the inevitable event, given the curiosity of the creations who resembled the creator.

Hafiz doesn’t commit to any one view. He simply asks the question, suggesting that perhaps we do not fully understand the exchange that was made, beyond the basic information passed down through the ages. What is one world worth? Did Adam and Eve take their world for granted? Probably. Don’t we take our world for granted most of the time? But what if they also desired more? More than blind obedience. What are we willing to trade for peace? What are we willing to trade for safety? What are we willing to compromise on for those we love? Had Adam not eaten of the fruit, would he have lost Eve? There are so many questions left unanswered that only a fool would claim to know what they would do in the same circumstances.

My Poem 33:

By the light of a mid-month moon,
my love gathered figs by the handful.
Her plump, ripe lips, a sticky, sweet boon,
as I kissed the taste of the tree’s jewel.

That rich ambrosia, nectar of gods,
forbidden for reasons unknown.
Angels eat the fruit, so I find it odd,
that the restriction applies to us alone.

Why was I made and given this mate,
if not to experience all and to learn?
To know good and evil, not to hesitate,
is the knowledge for which I yearn.

The taste of truth, bittersweet and bold,
that’s what this is, what I’ve come to crave.
The consequence is growing old,
and learning pain only taught by the grave.

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

Hafiz – Poem 32

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 32:

While you slept
The caravan has moved on

The desert is up ahead

Some thoughts:

As an intense sleeper in need of a ridiculous amount of sleep, this poem annoys me at the literal level. But if I look at it a bit more metaphorically, I can see what the poet is saying. We all must sleep, rest, withdraw from the world at times for healing and downtime. But isolation can become a habit if we let it. It is peaceful in our own tent, with our soft furnishings, and our quiet comfort zones. Outside is the noisy bunch with their opinions and foibles and, sometimes, annoying ways. But there are important qualities to community that we must remember to consider. It is only through community that we grow as people who can empathize with others, connect for companionship, and be nurtured and remembered. And in Hafiz’s time, there was safety, especially when travelling through the desert. It could be very dangerous to find yourself alone in a wilderness landscape. You might not survive. I suppose it is a good warning/reminder to find balance in our isolative ways if we are prone to such patterns.

My Poem 32:

While we slept,
energy continued to transition
from typewriters into clouds,
from broadcast to streams,
from nickels and dimes into crypto,
from desktop computers to quantum AI.

While we slept,
families continued to transition
from mother, father, two children to
whoever can cobble a life together,
whatever the gender expression
or lack thereof, or anywhere in between,
from white with white only to
beautiful hues of blended shades.

While we slept,
societies continued to transition
from patriarchal oppressive regimes
to the beginnings of equality and inclusion,
from workplace discrimination to
women in leadership roles, wheelchair ramps,
climate change and mental health awareness.

While we slept,
religious institutions continued to transition
from exclusive to more inclusive,
from in person only to online participatory options,
from fundamentalist to deconstructionist,
from male-only leadership to some women in high places.

While we slept,
culture continued to transition
from consumerism to minimalism,
from the status quo to conversations about privilege,
from fat-shaming to body positivity,
from nature destruction to environmental consciousness,
from acceptance to accountability.

When we wake,
will we bury our heads in the sand
and demand a halt to change, a return to the past,
or will we lift our chins, with eyes wide open, minds alert,
mouths slightly agape, and join the caravan?

The desert is up ahead.
It is vast and wide, and we will be left behind
in our ruts of “we know best” and “tradition is all,”
while the great adventure of life moves on without us.

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

Hafiz – Poem 31

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 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.

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.