The Spice-Seller

The people crowd the spice-sellers booth.

"Oh, I can feel the smile of the Beloved in every breath,"

A happy customer exclaims to his neighbors.

Little does he know that the true "barakah" flows
From the heart of that gentle shopkeeper.

For the Traveler --

The clouds have parted.
The great sun, once hidden,
Reaches down to touch the pilgrim.

"Your heart, on fire,
Reflects my love.
It burns strong,
Even in the darkest night."

Heavy Coat

The traveler, weighted down by her heavy coat,
hears the coins falling through her thread-worn pockets.
The path seems steep.
And those coins must be rolling away behind her.

She hears the gentle laughing of the Dervish:
"These are not your valuables. In your heart, a true treasury sits.
Each seed is a flower warmed by the breath of the Beloved.
These are the currency of true healing."

For the Mankind Project

Each small act of initiation,

Each healing of the weight of one man's woundedness,

Each turn to the call of mission.

Each pulls this planet one step closer to its true purpose.

Strengthening the entire great web that is the magic of our shared incarnation.

The Warrior Returns

Called to arms, the reluctant warrior bids farewell to his vineyard and gardens one last time.

Battles fought, this soul is drawn to return.

Repair and nurturing is her present task.

In each guiding turn, we feel the tenderness drawn from that strong heart long ago.

Waiting for the Caravans

The young men gather at the city gate.
Waiting for the caravans to arrive.
Who will be the first to taste the sweet fruit?
Or offer the latest scent to his lover?

One holds back. Waiting for the glance of his master.
The disheveled one.

Who talks to camels. And sings of the Beloved.
Whose gift is the sweetest perfume of all.

Fall Fruit

The fruit tree has scattered her sweet fall offerings.
Pilgrims, do not pass by hungry!

These apples sing of the Divine.
Telling us that the Beloved is near.

Keeper of the Key

Standing at the dargah's door.
The guardian welcomes all pilgrims.
From dawn to dark night, he stays at his post.
Sweeping and cleaning, scattering flowers.

Now his journey begins.
The path leads from this place to another temple door.
Guarded only by the breath of the Beloveds.

The Swan

Pushing past the dense marsh grass, the golden swan enters again the clear waters.

Shaking her wings, the droplets fall.

Each a prayer of rejoicing in the Blessings of the Beloved One

This Well

Come pilgrim to this well!
The wine will make your feet dance, and flowers will spring from your hair like golden bees.
No more pushing that old cart up the mountain.
The Beloved is calling you to his side.

Hidden Gardens: For Tule

Spinning, the dervisha turns with eyes closed.

Doors open to gardens we cannot see.
Yet, the perfume of those enchanted flowers, heard in your song,

is our heart's delight!

For Abraham

Oh musician! How we gather at your call.

Knowing that our circle is your prayer.

And our song, the glass of wine.

Lifted to the Beloved's lips.

Night Watcher

Silent watcher of the night sky.

You point out the comets and constellations, but inside you hear the dark matter's pulsing "Hu."

Now is the time to raise your voice in the remembered song.

The sky canopy is our dance tent.

And, it is your turning that calls us home to the Sema once again.

for Tom

The stars burn steady in this night sky.
No flickering here, as the angels gather to witness your holy turning.

Each of us in turn blessed by your gaze.
Reminded, once again, of the Beloved One's generosity.

Let our eyes reflect His divine healing song.
Resting so gently on your sweet breath.

For a Mystic Warrior

The carpenters and the masons rush about the temple grounds.

Each board and each stone placed so carefully.

The dervish procession streams by.

Their music and song an invitation to leave this dusty job site.

And drown in the disordered heart of the Beloved One.

At the Well - for Sherry

The crowd jeers as the Dervish steps up to the old dry well.

She only smiles, and drops the bucket into the shallow blackness.

Deeper, the rope unfurls. The container falls into the opening void.

Stars swim in the sweet dark water, as all remember the one true thirst.

The Painter and the Dervish

Oh dervish, we hear the call of your drum!

"Hurry to the tavern, the Beloved is near."

Smiling, the painter knows that song.

But her wild abandon takes place in the pulse of her veins.

Hands steady, she mixes the paints that will form her prayer.

Moon Pond Healing

Guiding your canoe through the lillies on this moon-filled night.

No struggle against the roots of these flowers.

Each pedal and each fragrance, a reminder of the love you've shared.

Let that love fill the cells of your being.

Outshining even the healing moon above.

Dye Pots

The dyer lifts the skeins from the simmering vats.

Colors so deep that the sun pours out an extra gift of radiance in appreciation!

Your fingers know from fires tended long ago.

To stirs these coals, making art.

Fiber by fiber, touch by touch.

Summer-storm-born

Summer day.

Birds of many colors and song next in the sweet mulberry.

Fierce roots pushing deep in this backyard soil.

Resonating gently with the songs far above.

You dear, summer-storm-born, equally strong and beautiful.

As artist, mother, teacher and guide, you sweeten this world.

Bringing out the songs and colors we so long to share.

With the Mureeds

Bring your hand to your heart.

This is not your body.

Breathe the river of the Beloved's embrace.

Sweep open the hand.

The piles of old rags and discarded furniture are washed away in one breath.

The door to the Temple is revealed once again.

Impeccable

With such grace, I watch you shrug off one cord after another.

Scrubbed clean, this jewel shines from within.

Solid ground in a spinning world.

Johanna

Meditations of star travel, riding rivers of Light-to-Matter being born.

Your wise heart holds all of Creation in loving embrace.

That same gentleness in your finger's touch: holding loved ones present in this moment.

In Your Kitchen

The crowds rush to the marketplace.

"New spices have arrived from mysterious lands," they call out.

In your kitchen, dear Beloved, we need no magic powders.

The depth of friendship and the Light of your heart, is our true feast!

Falling Bird

The golden one falls through the clouds. Tossed by invisible waves.

Pushing by force of will to the mountain perch only he can see.

Unfolding those giant wings, the sun ignites his soul.

Falling into the Divine purpose, he is carried aloft to guide our heart's quest.

The Shy Guardian

You stand again at the sanctuary gate.
"No more 'trail of tears,'" you affirm.


Hearing deep in every bone, the old songs.
Reflected in the sea's foam and the stars' delight.

One Dolphin Prepares for the Swim

The dolphins sing in the star-night sky.
Awaiting their lover-moon's return.

One remains silent.  
Saving her power for the long swim ahead.

She knows her light is the star waiting 
beyond that moon.
She holds its light for our joy.

The Potter's Hands

The potter kneads the resisting clay.
"Why do you push me so?"

"Be still," the artist whispers.  
"Under your flesh runs a deep current."

Our work is to bring this river to its love:
The dancing moon and stars.