A Mouse and A Frog

This week has been very interesting. Coleman Barks introduces Sohbet. “Sohbet has no English equivalent. It means something like mystical conversation on mystical subjects.” Barks continues his introduction to this chapter by discussing an experience many of us may have felt, the sensation of hearing ourselves speaking from habit. Then there are other times where we might say or write something that seems incredibly wise and wonder where the thought or idea came from.

Barks own words are best to portray how he feels this applies to Rumi: “Sometims that presence, amazingly, speaks to Rumi through the poetry; voices slide back and forth within the same short poem! Often the poem serves as a slippery doorsill place between the two…voices coming from a between-place. This expanding and contracting of identity is one of the exciting aspects of Rumi’s art. Everything is in conversation.”

Today’s poem paints a beautiful picture of an open, carefree, joyous relationship between a mouse and a frog. They understand each other and immediately know what the other is thinking;

“Bitterness doesn’t have a chance

with these two.”

After Rumi paints this lovely picture, he changes the metaphor to drive home his point:

“Do camel bells say, Let’s meet back here Thursday night?

Ridiculous. They jingle

together continuously,

talking while the camel walks.”

To be sure we get the point, Rumi asks:

“Do you pay regular visits to yourself?”

Shifting Gears

cyclists

(internet photo)

I spin down a pathway
pedals whirl to keep up
to spend time together
close the gap
that isolates our hearts

tires roll past multi-color expressions
laughter, chatter, music, silence
I dodge crashing apprehension
scrape muddled rumination
from the gear shift of our relationship

my knees bend
pump, push, genuflect
bow to the journey
the adventure
the unknown
bow to discovery
as I learn
what makes your gears turn smoothly
and what makes them grind

bow to anticipation
riding uncharted paths
where we create our own ruts
where blisters reveal our soft spots
where together we go the distance

fix each other’s flat tires
and deflated egos
quench each other’s thirst
push each other
back to the beginning
where the gap first cracked
and we couldn’t see
where the ride would lead us.

Sweet Nectar

making_comb_3

(image credit: Primo Masotti maso101@libero.it)

Confusion buzzes in my head
like a swarm of angry bees
that have lost their queen

I crave the sweet nectar
of love words
dripping smoothly from your lips
like honey off a comb

But I get
peanut butter and jelly promises
an unwelcome substitute
that sticks with dryness
rather than desire

Misunderstanding

You’re going left
I’m going right
We both want the same
Yet we struggle and fight

The storm clouds brew
They swirl and spin
Meaning is lost
The tension begins

The sweetness, the romance
Gone in a flash
Hands draw into fists
Teeth clench and gnash

You make your point
I strive to make mine
The atmosphere charged
We need intervention: divine

Ears that won’t listen
They can’t seem to hear
All progress lost
Replaced by tears

I thought I understood
I now know I was wrong
Peaceful resolution
Is for what I long

I was so excited
I thought we were in this together
I didn’t anticipate
Communication stormy weather