post-pilgrimage six

Waft, then, unto me, O my God and my Beloved, from the right hand of Thy mercy and Thy loving-kindness, the holy breaths of Thy favors, that they may draw me away from myself and from the world unto the courts of Thy nearness and Thy presence. (Bahá’u’lláh)

shrine from upper terraceslost in a sea of subtle fragrance
and deep abounding joy i sigh

you ask me hello are you there you
need to concentrate what are you
thinking of

looking
longing
across the bay
like a magnet it draws me back

it feels like flying
like being there and curling into
a stance of prayer my forehead
touches the carpet and
as the faithful utter wordless devotions
i smell the scent of roses in the air
turning to face that sacred spot that
sea wall in akkáholy threshhold

drink deep from the cup of His presence
for in nine days you return to your previous life
to find that it can no longer be lived the same way

back at work on a grey day I hear chatter
while deep inside noiseless waves
crash and break upon my heart
and their silent roar echoes in my ears
and shakes this dusty shell that surrounds me

I turn aside and I sigh
and you look on wondering
if one day you look upon my Beloved
you might know why

3 thoughts on “post-pilgrimage six

  1. The poetry of the mystical is the most difficult because the deepest. How to express longing? Begin with Rumi, and in this century, begin again, with the Beloved. Lovely, lovely Ayyam-i-Ha gift to read your words, Dan.

    I loved seeing Diana’s pictures of Guadeloupe, too. Part of my soul is still Belizean, so any glimpse of the world of warmth takes me home.

    Je te remercie.

    Heather

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