Poems

Eagle Poem

Gill Washington Joy Harjo, Poems, Prayer , , , , , 0 Comment

By Joy Harjo

To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you.
And know there is more
That you can’t see, can’t hear
Can’t know except in moments
Steadily growing, and in languages
That aren’t always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe knowing
We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon, within a
True circle of motion,
Like eagle rounding out the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.

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The Borderland – 9

Gill Washington Poems, Rabindranath Tagore , , 0 Comment

By Rabindranath Tagore 

From Rabindranath Tagore, Selected Poems

Translated by William Radice

I saw, in the twilight of flagging consciousness,
My body floating down an ink-black stream
With its mass of feelings, with its varied emotion,
With its many-coloured life-long store of memories,
With its flutesong. And as it drifted on and on
Its outlines dimmed; and among familiar tree-shaded
Villages on the banks, the sounds of evening
Worship grew faint, doors were closed, lamps
Were covered, boats were moored to the ghats. Crossings
From either side of the stream stopped; night thickened;
From the forest-branches fading birdsong offered
Self-sacrifice to a huge silence.


Dark formlessness settled over all diversity
Of land and water. As shadow, as particles, my body
Fused with endless night. I came to rest
At the altar of the stars. Alone, amazed, I stared
Upwards with hands clasped and said: ‘Sun, you have removed
Your rays: show now your loveliest, kindliest form
That I may see the Person who dwells in me as in you.’ 

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I Have Come

Gill Washington Poems, Prayer, Rumi, Spirituality , , , , , , 0 Comment

From Hush – Don’t Say Anything to God – Passionate Poems of Rumi

by Shahram Shiva

I have come
to pull you by your ear,
and bring you to myself.
I will make you selfless,
I will make you fearless,
then I will place you in the
heart and the soul of the king of Souls.
I have come like a breeze of Spring
to you, oh, field of flowers,
so I can keep you by my side,
and hold you tight.
I have come to shine on you,
as you walk this path.
Like the prayer of lovers,
I will help you reach the
roof of the heavens.

I have come to take back that kiss
that you stole from me.
You are my catch, my game,
my prey, my hunt.
You have escaped my trap so far,
Run, run, or I will chase you there.
Remember what the lion said to the deer.
“You are so beautiful,
you are so lovely
run in front of me,
so I can catch you
and tear you to pieces.”
Be like the deer, accept the wounds
like a shield of a warrior.
Don’t listen to anything
but the whooshing of the arrows heading
toward you.
From the dust of the Earth to a human being
there are a thousand steps
I have been with you through these steps,
I have held your hand and walked by your side.
You may think that I have left you
on the side of the road.
Don’t complain,
don’t become mad,
and don’t open the lid of the pot.
Boil happily and be patient.
Remember what you are being prepared for.
You are a lion’s cub,
hidden inside a deer’s body,
with one strike I will wipe that illusion
and rid you of it.
You are my ball, and you roll because
of the strike of my polo mallet.
Just remember,
it is me who is chasing you
even though it is me who is helping you run.

http://www.rumi.net/

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Water Flows

Gill Washington God, Love, Poems, Rumi , , , 0 Comment

From: Rumi – Hidden Music

Translated by Maryam Mafi

When you plant a tree
every leaf that grows will tell you,
what you sow will bear fruit.
So if you have any sense, my friend
don’t plant anything but love,
you show your worth by what you seek.
Water flows to those who want purity
wash your hands of all desires and
come to the table of Love.

Do you want me to tell you a secret?
The flowers attract the most beautiful lover
with their sweet smile and scent.
If you let God weave the verse in your poem
people will read it forever.

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Whale And The Doorway

Gill Washington Hydeh Aubon, Poems , , , 0 Comment

By Hydeh Aubon

Facing the ocean,
I stood in a doorway
with no door.
It was made out of ancient rocks,
it was unsteady and full of cracks,
and, it was built on sand.
Nevertheless, I stood high
and observed the ocean.
Once, a horseman passed
with a basket of fresh herbs.
I accepted the herbs,
the passion and generosity
of healing, turned my face,
and I let him go.
Once, a lady passed with
a basket full of fragrant blossoms.
I accepted the promise of life,
the promise of never-ending
new beginnings,
and I let her pass.
Once, a child was running with a group of
colorful butterflies and in her
hand she held a kite
soaring so high with
a rainbow tail of dreams,
manifesting with each step.
I watched her pass as I envied her.
Once, a group of
unknown spirits passed
lovingly smiling at me;
vast, as the unknown
beautiful as uncertainty,
unreachable as answers,
and familiar as nothing and everything.
I closed my eyes, so afraid of
the possibility of them being real.
Recently, an old being
stood in front of my doorway
and without uttering a word asked me,
how long was I going to
stand in a fragile doorway
without ever stepping forward?
I said, I know of a whale
in the vastness of this ocean and
sometimes, I just close my eyes
and the whale hears me.
One day, I will walk to the ocean
get on the back of that whale
and go to the endless
unknown.
I looked into the unknown’s eyes
an old hand was stretched
and I grabbed it stepping
outside of the doorway.
The smell of apples, herbs, blossoms,
the ocean,and
the presence of eternity,
What could be more magical?
What could be so uncertainly reassuring?
No, I do not need to follow the colorful butterflies
or enviously look at the birds soar
or a kite of my dreams vanishing
in the beyond.
The hand I grabbed was my own
and when I smell the apple,
somehow, I know
that nothing matters.

Hydeh Aubon (2/1/09)

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On Death

Gill Washington Grief, Kahlil Gibran, Poems, The Prophet , , , 0 Comment

From The Prophet

by Kahlil Gibran

Than Almitra spoke, saying, “We would ask now of Death.”
And he said:
You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the sheered not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink form the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

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Archaic Torso of Apollo

Gill Washington Life, Poems, Rainer Maria Rilke , , , , 0 Comment

By Rainer Maria Rilke

We’ll never know the incredible head
where his eyes ripen like apples. No,
but that torso is a gas lamp, and in its glow
his gaze does appear, turned down instead,

but hovering, glistening. Otherwise the arc of his breast
wouldn’t dazzle you, and in the slight
twist of his loins a smile wouldn’t alight
in the center, where the virile parts nest.

Otherwise this stone would be stunted, marred
under those shoulders that plunge hard,
wouldn’t flicker like a wild animal’s coat;

wouldn’t burst from its edges, knife
like a star: there’s nowhere on him so remote
it doesn’t see you: you’ve got to change your life.

Translation © 2014 by Zack Rogow

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