sitting, this early autumn dawn…
already the tropical heat steams:
low clouds are resting on the mango tops
and on my head, thick after an airless night
sitting, greeting, bowing to
each whining thought’s futility
in the presence of this
has been tossed too far
off the mainstream GPS
by whatever brought her here
to expect acceptance
by the old herd
sometimes, though, there’s a glance
back, over the shoulder
and a sigh sighs – it wants
the best of both worlds:
understanding and encouragement from the old
friends, the frayed remnant of family
as well as this wild unchoreographed dance
with the unknown
but it’s a no-brainer and anyway
back-tracking isn’t an option
a great sentient silence wraps itself
around this spaciousness
and there’s just this
emelle loves this fail-safe Lover
with her life
emelle = ml = miriam louisa
Hafiz’s poem – my brilliant image – provides the perfect cue-in for a confession:
It all began with a killer migraine. My skull felt like a firebomb about to explode; the pain was so intense I wanted it to. I was retching and nothing would remain in my stomach. Painkillers weren’t an option. It was simply more than I could bear, and to my surprise (since I usually suffer in silence) I heard myself screaming, “Finish me off! I can’t stand it!”
It was instantaneous. Behind my closed eyelids a shimmer of white light washed over the blackness. Soft milky light – very different from the lights often associated with migraines.
The light brought instant calm, blissful relief from the panic. The pain was still there but in some inexplicable way it simply wasn’t a problem.
But then these words were somehow ‘heard’:
AND THIS LIGHT DOES KNOW ALL OTHER LIGHT AS ITS SHADOW
My hair stood on end. Where did that come from? What did it mean?
Those words were my koan for almost twenty years.
Those words led inevitably to the knowing of that “Astonishing Light” as my own Beingness.