Love Demands

May 4, 2007 in Poems of Love, Poems of Travel, The Poet's Eyes, The Poet's Tongue...

Peace, one and all…

Here are some more of my most recent poetic reflections.  Enjoy and may the Beloved make them of use.

A Moment of Soft Repose

Weather changing,
heat cooling,
mellowing into a moment
of soft repose.

Reflecting on this tiny fragment,
I’m thinking of You.

Each passing mood of weather
boils me fiercely
or cooks me slowly.

This world is the flame,
and these train journeys the pot;

may the fire of Your Love be ever beneath me,
that I might become naught
but a tasty morsel in Love’s great feast.

This Performance of Me

The trees fall silent as we pass by,
as though this train were an orchestra
and my soul the opening notes of a symphony.

The beating of my heart
drives this performance of me forward,
into all the wide spaces of the world,
and beyond.

My eyes’ glance becomes the conductor,
shaping each rising and falling moment,
as trees move like violins at play
and clouds come together as the ringing of cymbals.

While it lasts, Beloved, let this concert of me
issue forth from all that I am in Love,
and let the silent expectation of my ending
lie solely with You.

I Fear To Die

Sometimes, when I speak through my frightened narrowness,
I fear this coming of beauty
as I would fear the fiery power of the Sun.

At such times, that narrow half turns its face away,
seeking solace in all the passing distractions of life.

But, I know I must at last peer deeply
into that hidden pool of me, Beloved.

And, in all truth,
Love’s urgent assurance comes swiftly to me:

‘Let go, O Soul, let go.
Leap bravely into the still water.
I am waiting for you there’.

Troubadour

When some encounter the world’s breath-taking diversity,
they place hands over the eyes and ears of their souls,
and let their mouths pour forth
every anxious fear.

I have had my fill of such a life, Beloved,
I truly have.

Now that I have at last learned to look more clearly,
I would rather become that troubadour of heart and soul,
writing Love poetry in praise of You ever more.

Love’s Demands

What does Love demand, my friend?

How could this unworthy narrowness
ever hope to fill the space between us
with an answer, O beloved soul?

Does Love demand freedom from burning,
or entrance into the playgrounds of eternity,
as requital for all those long years
of quiet, aching yearning?

Does Love demand gratification and if so,
is Love merely the brief passage of endorphins
through heart and brain?

Beloved, how could I ever hope to define Love,
and thereby lay claim to its essence,
like some stolen land?

Here is a guess.
Reckon it a child’s first steps towards the light:

Love is just being with You,
and in this sacred moment,
I know I am happy to wait.

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman