I read this poem and it makes me wonder why we even try so hard to understand ourselves and the world when we know all along what we seek is of us. Still there is the habit of waking up every morning and shuffling into our lives, living that fine line between remembering and forgetting. Off we march making the hundreds of choices we make every day - most of little consequence. Sometimes it feels too ironic that we work so hard to become obsolete spiritually. Even though I know that is just a small part of it all, it sometimes feels a folly. Hafiz seems to lament in this poem that he is done with the whole ball of wax. There is no outside source of what ignites our passion for life. He teaches us that it is difficult to know and not know all at once but it is the only life we accepted on some level to live so far. We are challenged to be warmed by this heat alone. Some days are easier than others.
Thank you for listening.
Music: This lush song by Elbow, This Beautiful World, from their album The Take Off and Landing of Everything captures the weight of a lament I find myself leaning into it upon occasion and it reminds me of this poem by Hafiz. A reflection of my life in exile from my soul; a refugee from a home I cannot remember yet must not forget.
When all the world is sucking on its sleeve
You'll hear an urgent Morse in the gentle rain
And if you plot your course on the window pane
You'll see the coldest star in the arms of the oldest tree
And you'll know to come to me
The original post in this series of poems by Hafiz (including an addendum regarding the authenticity of these poems) can be found here.
The Gift: Poems by Hafiz and translated by Daniel Ladinsky can be purchased here.