Saturday, December 26, 2009

I miss it every day

Remembering The Holy Land

at the kitchen sink, bare feet on cold tile,
I find myself circling the Shrine.
It is how I always remember it:
Winter, rain misting the marble,
jasmine and jackals filling the air.

in the garden, sweat watering the soil
I am in the Master's House.
It is how I always remember it:
Spring, orange blossoms and aurocaria,
the Guardian's ghost pacing the paths.

whispering Allah'u'abha, Allah'u'abha...
I am in the Mansion of Baha'u'llah.
It is how I always remember it:
Summer, lantern flickering on shadows praying,
His tiny shoes beneath a square of silk.

It is how I always remember it.


  1. God, this is so moving. My heart seems to have stopped beating, or slowed down with the immovable gravity of your spiritual words. So many thanks for sharing this. Love.

  2. I love this sweetpea bring me so many memories