125) If I Could Write a Poem
I want to write a poem about beauty and love and laughter and kindness and inspiration and heroes, about Grandma’s hands, and Grandpa’s chuckles, and the smell of the dog I had as a child and the sweet tartness of apples and the purring pleasure of an orgasm and snowflakes sparkling in sunlight and those moments when you feel hushed and perfect and there’s no need to say anything…
27) Gratitude Day 7: Breaking Your Vows
I am grateful for a Rumi poem. It’s the opening poem to the beautiful book, The Illuminated Rumi.
“Come, come, whoever you are! Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn’t matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again , come , come!”
I love this poem because it is like a flower. Flowers are beautiful. But they grow in the shit and death of the micro organismic world that we pretend we are different from. Without death and shit, no flowers.