Our names rhymed in the inseparability of place and time. We echoed its resonance and danced to the melody of life. The music was soft, the lyrics Divine, the night was still young and long--or at least we thought so...
I had planned all along to die before her or at least with her… Her subconscious often voiced an objection to my presumption: "Zam, what would you do without me (I would watch in silence as the question mark and the exclamation mark would look at each other and back off as neither wanted to end that statement.)
She liked hot pink…, she knew how to laugh...
Our marriage wore the thinnest veil to mask our expressions of thought, yet it etched the heartfelt in the annals of time that were snatched by the threads of 'the third gender,' i.e. email, albeit not too unintentionally. These shared glimpses are not for prying; the intent, very sincerely, is to cherish the shared life we've lived as you reflect upon yours in the passing of time.
The launching pad
of your spiritual journey
in ascension back home,
from whence you bid us farewell
is now the temple where
I adore your thoughts,
your inquisitive tone of voice,
your silly moments making faces,
your contemplative poise,
and your laughter.
your contagious laughter.
In the emptiness of this temple
I water your memories
with crimson tears
as the still of night contemplates
on the echo of Yaa-Seen
in enduring silence
on and on
Out of the Healing Hiatus
Denial has succumbed
to the imperative of time.
a bit more daringly
out of the healing hiatus.
She flows through me.
Loneliness is not without her
This self shall be mine
‘til it’s no more.
Journeyed places far and wide
defied spatial dimensionality.
Time reflected into itself
a temporality that lingers to be felt.
Emptiness is of space,
not of her place in my heart.
I whisper to her longing:
‘never loved you like this before’
Her being is reflected
in a heart of compassion,
cast in a splendid soul
thirsting for the Presence.
Her recurring images
weave in and out of my reality.
Seeking the Presence
through the deeper layers of
a lived reality.
I sense being sought
by Her Whom I seek.
I am thirsty.
To Jahan on her birthday,
November 15, 1999
Patches of glowing satin clouds
converged in the eastern November horizon
to greet the sun.
Above the hilltops
the clouds were set ablaze by the fiery hearth.
The parted veils of clouds were blessed
when kissed by the sun’s golden rays,
leaving imprints of silver lining
on their unevenly-defined edges.
From behind the silver lining
rays of hope projected from behind
in all directions, announcing
the arrival of a promised tomorrow
that became this day.
Below the cheering clouds
some patches split golden-pink blush in two
turning it into a heart that was the sun,
proving the appearance of duality
as the essence of Oneness,
calling the rested night
and the dawning day
for the testimonial.
The fluffy patches scattered around
as the solar eye, in all its golden glory,
shone on your face
and in your eyes
offering its radiant hues
to your beauty
as a token present of His presence.
The sun defined itself
through its reflection in your eyes
as your morning glory,
wrapped in silken foliage,
this mid-November morning. 99115 R01024
Paradise under your feet.
I am the heaven you walk on.
So tread gently, very gently on
these high celestial grounds;
least you blind
the very eyes that see
all your elegance galore.
February 14, 2011 9:13 PM
From: Jahan Stanizai
Grammar of Love to my English Teacher
I met a noun,
introduced by a comma, and
we verbed across the dance floor.
I love you, noun, I said.
Let’s get married
and have a couple of objects.
Now our objects are out on their own,
but we sit and enjoy prepositions
running all through the house.
And I still love my noun,
and we still like to verb
and dance when we get a chance.
match this one, if you can.
February 14, 2011 10:12 PM
From Zaman Stanizai
My dear lovely verb,
I love to be your noun—
always next to you—where I belong.
Your are my verb, my aspect,
my tense, and my tension.
Without you as a verb, life has no movement.
Without you as aspect, life has no meaning,
Without your tense time has no past or present
and certainly no future.
You are the tension I thrive on.
You are my beautiful verb.
I love to conjugate you
with all prepositions and as many propositions
as I can possibly think of.
As a noun and verb we look great—
together in agreement:.
when you reflect the singularity
of my love for you
and the plurality of the ways
I can express my love to you.
As a noun, I am your subject my queen.
You look great when you trust me
and follow in agreement.
I can take you to greater heights.
That way our objects and prepositions
can follow us in dotting the lines of life.
I have loved you before I made my proposition
and will love you even after
I turn into a concluding statement.
I love you as a subordinate clause,
and I love you as a coordinator.
I will become a fragment a thousand times
to achieve the unity of purpose
with you as a thesis statement.
In the dance of life
I will become an exclamation mark
at the end of the song of life.
I will become an octave in elation
to sing your name as the melody of life.
I will punctuate your life like a comma,
I will follow your beauty like an ellipse,
I will summersault like an apostrophe to cheer you up
I will hyphenate your desires
to the realm of augmented wishes,
and I will dash to the end of the world
to fulfill your dreams.
You are my clause and my cause
and I have been sentenced eternally
to your love.
I will turn into every letter and every sign
until I become a period of certainty
in the expression of my love for you.
In coherence and cohesion
your loving noun,
The Fifty-fourth Night
I call her in the still of night.
The walls echo her voice
as she shadows my loneliness.
At times, the roar and rumble
in the jugged peaks of emotional heights
threaten an avalanche.
Clouds of uncertainty loom and linger above,
but then they vanish.
Sometimes, waves of tsunamis
hit the coastal planes of my soul,
but they too ebb away like rolling tears.
the colors of tomorrows without her
begin to fade.
But I wash them in the tears of her memories.
They come alive shining brighter than ever.
I survived to live her
in her unlived dreams
and to keep our promise:
to be in each other’s solitude.
That’s when the sun beams her warmth
through the leafed canopy
to register her presence
in the garden I see beautiful
through her eyes.
I will smell the roses—
Sunday October 13, 2013
As I write the last line of this poem, synchronicity chimes in thematically. My good friend Mehr Rahimi sends in his weekly verse that reads:
Once I happened to walk there by the shore.
Wave after wave had a message to explore.
This is the story of life if you look in the core.
One wave has to die for another wave to soar.
My new friend Dave Maddux sends in the following quatrain of Khayyam on the same theme:The Moving Finger Writes; and, Having Writ
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger,
An endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower,
And you it's only seed.
It's the heart afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance.
It's the dream afraid of waking
That never takes the chance.
It's the one who won't be taken,
Who cannot seem to give,
And the soul afraid of dyin'
That never learns to live.
When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been to long,
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong,
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed that with the sun's love
In the spring becomes the rose.
Sent: Tue, 13 Feb 2007 9:08 AM
Subject: happy early Valentine
i carry your heart with me
i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go and whatever is done
by only me is your doing
i fear no fate (for you are my fate) i want
no world (for you are my world)
and it's you whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life: which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
More to come, lets keep the week sacred. and see what brings tomorrow. J.
Subject: Re: happy early Valentine
Date: Tue. 13 Feb 2007 2:23 PM
Nothing takes me out of this world
the way you do.
Nothing brings me back to this world,
the way your eyes do.
I die in you a thousand deaths
and live for you
to die again.
I long for the hidden you
to embrace my presence,
to awake in my awareness,
to resonate in my song.
I live for the beauty of your eyes.
I wish that in every awaken moment
of my life
open only to be filled
with your sight.
For the fulfillment of that wish
I will die
to die with you—
not a moment sooner,
So that in my last living moment
my eyes close
on the Divine Image
in your eyes.
Sent: Wed, 14 Feb 2007 9:02 AM
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom
and carries hidden within itself
the light of flowers,
I love you without knowing how,
or when, or from where,
I love you in this way because
I don't know any other way of loving
but none compares with your love
as you sang in my ear "?
"but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is
so intimate that when I fall asleep
it is your eyes that close"
Will you still be my Valentine? J.
Subject: Re: Valentine
Date: Wed. 14 Feb 2007 2:28 PM
With your fragrance I went to sleep
I awoke with fragrant thoughts still steeped
That rainbow arch that day I chased
Its plethora grips I embraced
As your looks pervade my thoughts
These moments all my life I sought
This is My Heart
This is my heart. It is a good heart.
Bones and membrane of mist and fire
are the woven cover.
When we make love
my heart is so close
to yours to sing in a language that has no use
for clumsy human words.
My head is a good head, but it is a hard head
and it whirls inside with a swarm of worries.
What is the source of this singing, it asks
and if there is a source why can't I see it
right here, right now
as real as these hands hammering
the world together
This is my soul. It is a good soul.
It tells me, "come here forgetful one."
And we sit together with little, small winds
rattling the oak.
We cook a little something
then a sip of something sweet
This is my song. It is a good song.
It walks forever the border of water and fire
climbs the ribs of desire
to my lips to sing to you.
Its new wings quiver with
Come lie next to me, says my heart.
Put your head here, says my head
It is a good thing, says my soul.
Still Valentine, J.
what does it profit a great man to gain the whole world and to lose his soul (his love)? J.
Subject: common ground
Date: Thu, 22 Feb 2007 9:13 AM
You take a final step and look, suddenly
You're there. You've arrived
At the one place all your drudgery was aimed for:
This "common ground"
What did you want to be?
A luminous point of change.
Holding it firm till the arrival of
your next heartbeat.
you will remember soon
You've made a lasting impression
By having come all this way through all this welter
Though your traces on a map would make an unpromising
What have you learned so far?
You'll find out later,
Like a dream, that lost traveler's dream
Where through the night you'll take your time out of mind
To unburden yourself
Of elements along elementary paths
By the break of morning.
You've earned this worn-down, hard, incredible sight
Called Here and Now.
Now, what you make of it means everything,
Means starting over:
The life in your hands is neither here nor there
But getting there,
So you're standing again and breathing
Journey on this "common ground"
hopefully without regret
Forever, being your own king of the kingdom,
The end of endings will tell us
what will you bring "us" next.
I was thinking of sending you another poem, since you only care about that language, but it seems like you don't even respond to that. I will stop sending you, unless you respond and that will tell me if you care. J.
poetically and otherwise.
The suspense of uncertainty
doesn't allow for deeper feelings
to sink in and stay in
as desired intimacy
is chased away by unpredictabilities.
I savor the moments
when longing for intimacy
is not distanced by the dark clouds
that hide the lighted sky behind.
How can your love be so shaky to be suspended so quickly by temporary unpleasant events to hide behind clouds. Can clouds actually hide "true love"? Or can your "Sun" be hidden by little clouds? I wonder.
Just think of being happy.
Only humming a little, the quiet sound in the head.
the little beating of the heart
Trouble is busy elsewhere at the moment, it has
so much to do in the world.
Clouds don't change the reality of the sun universally,
but they sure make for a terrible day
by creating a miserable reality on the ground
as rain, snow, slush, mud, and storms.
March 27, 2007 8:35 am
It doesn't interest me if there is one God
I want to know if you belong with me
or feel abandoned
if you can see what I see or feel what I feel
I want to know
"when I fall asleep, it is your eyes that close"
I want to know
if you are prepared to live with me "in love "
with its harsh realities
If you can look back with keen eyes
and make the changes
to live in my heart, the center of your longing
if you care
to melt into that fierce heat of living,
if you are willing
to live, day by day, with the consequence of love
and its bitter
unwanted passion of your sure defeat.
that even God(s) speak of
It is your Choice that is my Will. Your wife, your life
ps. I would like you to print this and all other collections of my thoughts, to remind me in case I forget where I stand, to find my way back into the Center of the Circle.
Subject: another gift to you with love Divine
Date: Wed, 28 Mar 2007 9:59 AM
MY GIFT TO YOU
There are so many gifts sent to you from God
Everything I have is also yours
There are so many gifts, my dear,
let go of greed and stop looking for more
if you keep on opening the Gifts
given to "us" alone
there will be no breath left in your life time
to thank GOD for gifts so Divine
don't doubt his judgment for what
for HE can take it all back
Friday 6 April 2007 8:56 AM
Shake out your qualms.
Deepen your vision
even if it wrecks you.
Extend your feet
trust deep water.
Raise your head
reach for the sky.
Quit your addiction
to sneer and complain.
Open your horizon
and dance on the ice
run with your "life"
even if leaping on abyss
intrepid all the way
be prepared to bump
into wonder at each corner
on route to disaster
to reach clarity
knowing only love prevails
leave your "Ineffable"
out of the mundane
nothing perishes or survives
honeymoon with "wife"
you will be closer to joy
Tuesday, 10 April 2007 8:37 PM
when we have just finished our work
our real work begins
when we have lost our way
our real journey has began
the unbaffled mind is unemployed
the impeded stream is not a stream
April 25, 2007
Love the earth and sun and animals,
stand up for yourself, mate and offspring, first
not for the stupid, crazy and the imbecile
for they are not your responsibility
devote your labor and income to the service
of the family you chose, first
not for the family you were given
for they are not who you asked for
argue not concerning God,
for He is not only yours
argue not regarding country
for She does not belong to you
have patience and indulgence toward your child(ren)
for they are the weak and the needy You created
reexamine all you have been told
by your parents, in school, temple or in any book,
dismiss what is Not working at present
which insults your very soul
because the Present is all what you have
for the past is history and future a mystery
hold on to this moment
and your life shall become the very poem
that your heart desires
I thought of you
and how simple it is
to keep our relationship clean and simple
from all the environmental pollution
and internal delusions
simpler than we could find words for
simpler than any thing we believe
closer than the air we breath
It must have been here all along
neither early nor late
for the days come and nights gone
but lets make a decision Just Now
to hold on to it for eternity
before it is hurried and gone.
The Mystery of Life
It is possible to be struck by a
meteor or a plane while
reading in a chair at home.
The heart decides to quit,
the power shuts off like a switch.
This is what I think about
when I shovel compost into the ground
on a sunny day
and when I water the long flower boxes
in front of my little kitchen window.
The instant hand of Death
always ready to burst forth from the
sleeve of his voluminous cloak.
We know it is possible
and know the message can be
delivered from within.
The brain defenseless
on the shore
of the endless sea of thoughts.
the clouds part and a brighter Sun appears,
and all I see is the
lifted faces of small flowers
while I hear
the click of the sundial changing one hour
On a gray day, when the weather
is chilled like that,
end-of-the world day,
I must be the sun.
I must be the one
to encourage that
the light will come back.
I must be the one
to remind myself that
the warmth will come back
to wrap me
On a dark day, I must be willing
to keep my disposition light.
When the sky is an iron lid
I must be the one to illuminate
even on a day that is not
so cold or gray, but lacks
sense and comfort.
I have to be the one
that makes all the difference
as though, I have been
created for this purpose
and my life depends on it.
Walker, you make the road,
there is no path ahead or behind
when you walk, you look back
there is no road or path, only
your own foot steps that you
may never walk on again.
Walker, there is no road,
only your foot steps.
Choose your steps carefully,
so, you won't leave a trail of
December 15, 2007
Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at distant things
For you are only one thing among many.
And whoever sees that way heals his heart,
Without knowing it, from various ills.
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.
Then he wants to use himself and things
So that they stand in the glow of ripeness.
It doesn't matter whether he knows what he serves:
Who serves best doesn't always understand.