This poem is a response to Shereen Aljarrah‘s very vigorous and fervent piece… “Love Me…“
I look at you not with child like orbs,
but like an orbs of a man,
that has earned the brightness in eyes
after years of blindness.
Before you, who had no idea of colors,
whatever he did know of them was from
the text and the shallow inscriptions.
I touch you not like a Gardner
touching his beloved flower,
but like a soul – a vagabond spirit
who earns all the senses to touch and feel
after uniting with its contender for a journey.
Before you, it had no idea of what it feels like
to be the one with somebody.
I kiss you not like a man struggling for
survival, so you can lend him a life… No.
But like a monk, who’s been rewarded
with the fruit forbidden for an after-life,
in lieu of all the chastity and sacrifice.
The eternal chalice of the youth potion,
one that he cherishes each day, each night.
I hold you not like a lost traveler
holding a torn map in last hope of destination.
But like a way an old man holds glasses and stick.
Like the way mystic carries his heart,
because that’s the abode of the beloved.
Like a companion without whom
there could be no journey, let alone the destination.
I love you not like anything or anyone…
Because that would be a faulty comparison.
If anything, I love you like greater than the previous moment…
Because I desire to love you like anything
ever been in love before; I desire to love you
beyond realms of the ordinary metaphors.
I love you like time loves itself, it only reveals this in the steps.
I can’t be your placating anchor,
I can’t be your stormy sea either.
Nor I can grant you to take refuge in me,
nor allow you to sail through me.
Because I’m inside you, like you’re inside me…
what happens to me is what happens to you…
We sink, we stay, we board ashore, or we stray
we are together in all possibilities.
How can one separate the light from eyes and still make it see?
How can one separate the life from its sensibility?
How can one separate the creativity from the artist?
How can one separate the heart alive from its heart beats?
How can one separate the love from its very pool of emergence?
What need be for me to surrender?
Why would you want me to be conquered?
There’s nothing in me,
that doesn’t belong to you…
I look with you…
I feel with you…
I kiss you like a life…
I hold you like the body carries its soul…
Just give me a permission for one thing, if you can…
Can I love you more than you want me to??
– Dedicated to the seekers of love, worldly or mystic. I sincerely don’t know how to fathom what love is, but if it’s most grand as I imagine it to be, my all tries are to get close.
1. Whirling Dervish by Areesha Khuwaja
2. Whirling Dervish by Hayrettin Karaerkek
Image Credits: areeshakhuwajablog.wordpress.com and andylal.blogspot.com
- Poem Being Written (alisohani.wordpress.com)
- The Magnitude (alisohani.wordpress.com)
- I hate you too… (alisohani.wordpress.com)
- The Undependable (alisohani.wordpress.com)
- Unbearable Lightness of Being (alisohani.wordpress.com)
This is such a beautiful response… 🙂
Nevertheless a response it is, its whole existence is due to the grace of the original. 🙂
Reblogged this on shereenaljarrah's Blog and commented:
A splendiferous response 🙂
I basically just smiled all through reading this. It’s so well written and detailed and the comparisons are just so lovely. Thank you for writing this. It’s truly beautiful.
Thank you Hina. I’ve tried to express it with both the honesty and simplicity. I hope it serves the purpose. 🙂
my brother, i am stunned into silence. i have no words for this – any comment would be cheap and unworthy.
Bob, you’re one of the most expressive people I know on the blogosphere, your silence is the last thing any one here would ever imagine. Yet what remains unsaid has been communicated well and being felt. Thank you for your support brother. 🙂
Melted my heart. This is the most beautiful piece I read in long time.
Thank you Hira. It’s such a pleasure to see you here. 🙂
خون ِ دل صرف کرنا پڑتا ھے
دیکھنا! تم نہ شاعری کرنا
What else would a wounded do?
If not express the pain in words…
What else would a lover do?
If not a total submission…? 🙂
This poem brought tears to my eyes. It reflected that secret wisdom so often found in Rumi’s work.
Reblogged this on Melinda Foshat and commented:
This poem brought tears to my eyes. It reflects that secret wisdom so often found in Rumi’s work. What a lovely poet.
Oh wow… nice
Lovely endeed, both poems
Thank you Myriam. Hope you like the poems as much as world likes your vocals… 🙂