What Was Told, That

From wherever spring arrives to heal the ground
From wherever searching comes, the look itself
A trace of what we're looking for
So be quiet now, and wait

And what was said to the rose to make it unfold
Was said to me here in my chest
So be quiet now, and rest
--David Crowder

What Was Told, That
by Jalalu'l-din Rumi
translated by Coleman Barks

What was said to the rose that made it open was said
to me here in my chest.

What was told the cypress that made it strong
and straight, what was

whispered the jasmine so it is what it is, whatever made
sugarcane sweet, whatever

was said to the inhabitants of the town of Chigil in
Turkestan that makes them

so handsome, whatever lets the pomegranate flower blush
like a human face, that is

being said to me now. I blush. Whatever put eloquence in
language, that's happening here.

The great warehouse doors open; I fill with gratitude,
chewing a piece of sugarcane,

in love with the one to whom every that belongs!

You Are The Absence

You Are The Absence

All this time I thought you’d be presence of mind,
a shocking electrical presence of mass
encroaching on my space.

I thought you’d be presence of feeling all this time,
a beating percussive presence of shape
invading my rhythm.

But you finally came,
and you are not so much a presence.

You are the quieting of my doubts,
the silence to my noise,
and the departure of the empty space at my side.

Everything good remains,
and I feel the exit of fear.
Even uncertainty whispers goodbye,
you don’t need me anymore.

To my surprise,
I lie down to sleep and realize:

you are the absence.

10.12.09
c.l.l.

The Suitor

The Suitor
by Jane Kenyon

We lie back to back. Curtains
lift and fall,
like the chest of someone sleeping.
Wind moves the leaves of the box elder;
they show their light undersides,
turning all at once
like a school of fish.
Suddenly I understand that I am happy.
For months this feeling
has been coming closer, stopping
for short visits, like a timid suitor.