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97 Holy Sonnet XXIII

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Holy Sonnet XXIII

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I thought I’d never know the depth and height
and length and breadth of such a love as yours:
that stretches so much farther than starlight,
and makes the oceans seem a shallow shore.
How much can these five senses truly taste?
Or finite intellect perfectly know?
How far can will—desires born of faith—
into God’s mysteries profoundly grow?
Then breathed you in my innermost being,
and gently rooted me in dirtlike love,
my every filament touching, drinking
the living water and the Light above.
“You’ll know the full,” you whisper close. “I will
your hungry soul with all my fullness fill.”

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JOEL ARMSTRONG
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97 When I Sleep

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When I Sleep

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When I sleep, You are the center of my dreams;

when I wake up You are the reason for my fervor.

O You the possessor of my sleeping and waking,

You are both my bewitching trap and my captivator.

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DR. JAVAD NURBAKHSH
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97 Last Night, As I Was Sleeping

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Last Night, As I Was Sleeping

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Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night, as I slept,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.

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ANTONIO MACHADO

(from Times Alone Selected Poems of Antonio Machado, translated by Robert Bly,1983, Wesleyan University Press)
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97 Apple Tree

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ARTWORK © ANDREY BOBIR

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Apple Tree

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“When Rumi went into the tavern
 I followed.”
—Mary Oliver, “Rumi” (Blue Horses)

 

It’s easy to drink this wine in the world.
The tavern is always open.

Even in broad day, every star is beaming its light.
The Swan spreads its wings above you.
Moon is tipsy with sky.
And the apple tree, leafless, is planning a sweet surprise for October.

Likewise, your heart knows its need for winter.
Naked just now, it is weaving a coat for some threadbare stranger.

It might be the girl buried alive with four dead brothers.
It might be the pilot who sent those missiles.
It might be the politicians who seem beyond saving, trapped
in the news and wanting you dead without knowing.

Here in your cups you know very well this is personal.
Child and villain—they are surely one and the same Beloved.
Drink up! There is never last call in this tavern.

When your chest is full of that wine,
your heart can dare the most doubtful adventure.
Not even a blizzard can stop it, not even a drought.
On dusty feet or frozen, it speeds unabashed through desert and flood
to child, to villain, to whomever you hasten to send it, drunkard.

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CHRIS ELLERY
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97 Intoxicated with Love Tonight

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Intoxicated with Love Tonight

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Musicians recite your praises tonight
Crying out to the Beloved in many languages
They sing with all their might

Poets write crazy verses to the Beloved tonight
Igniting our hearts in fiery love’s unity
Finding the right words to praise her to new height

Anything seems possible tonight
Restoring sight to the blind, resurrecting the dead,
or parting the Red Sea in Moses’s flight

Charon ferries us across the River Styx tonight
Passing the frightened hungry ghosts,
we all have the promised land in sight

All our dreams are fulfilled tonight
The inner teacher seals our instructions
Binding us to the Beloved in a solemn marriage rite

We all travel the road of heart tonight
Whichever direction this pilgrimage takes us,
we bask in your radiant light

We recite your name in unison tonight
Hearts beating as one, we now hear,
with God’s ears and see with God’s sight

Oh, Cupbearer pour us your wine tonight
So, we may drink of Divine Unity,
that makes our souls alight

Our chef has outdone herself tonight
Infusing each bite with the right herbs and spices
Satisfying the lover’s craving appetite

Heaven bestows your radiant light tonight
With white lightning flashes piercing our souls
Across a field of stars, waves of ecstasy ignite

We are intoxicated with love tonight
Abandoning all thought of past and future,
we unite with the Beloved in eternal kiss’s delight

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ROBERT STERNAU
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97 There’s a Place

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There’s a Place

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There’s a place by the river
where the trees whisper gently.
It will take your sorrows away.

There’s a song that resides
in the depths of the fiddle.
It will take your sorrows away.

There’s a promise of love
that will never be broken.
It will take your sorrows away.

Through illness or death
or far separation,
as surely as night foretells day,

when your heart finds your place
in the mystery of being
it will take your sorrows away.

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CHRIS HOFFMAN
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96 Editors’ Note

EDITORS’ NOTE

 

Internal.  External.  Eternal.  These aspects of a seeker’s self are always in conversation. The writers in this issue eavesdrop on this conversation, and relay what they’ve heard with varying approaches at turns lyrical or layered in complexity, direct or meandering. Some grounded in ancient history, and some firmly planted in a technological future. What do you know of yourself?  Perhaps it might be more interesting to ask who—and where—is the you that is knowing it?

Surat Lozowick offers a vivid potrayal of Kanai Das Baul of Bengal, whose day job is “singing to the Divine Mother,”  who is immersed in the presence of his Beloved whether in song or silence. Sholeh Johnston interviews Tiokasin Ghosthorse, who re-defines what many think of, by habit, as an external natural environment as actually existing within, when he suggests that it’s not about personally identifying with nature, “…it’s that you ask Mother Earth to be with you when you speak.” In her piece, Diffracting Rumi, Annouchka Bayley riffs on the prismatic capacities of both poem and guru; each can throw rays here and there, yet remain constant in essence. When the spirit takes human form, we are reminded of the Koranic version of a Divine Presence outside human experience, but closer than your jugular. Bernardo Kastrup, in conversation with Neil Johnston, also questions the reliability of the concept of “outside,” asserting that matter is only a matter of perception, and that, “It tries to answer this question: If this world isn’t outside consciousness, how come we are all sharing perceptions of the same world?” Mary Gossy, in her piece, Letter Pressing, tells us how a word gets in the body through slow reading,  how truth gets in the body through physical movement and contact, and how “Being enclosed, in a space or a practice or both…the kingdom of heaven within and without touches itself in you.”

The conversation of true self knowledge is sometimes an analytical dialogue, sometimes an intimate whispering, sometimes a love poem to the part of you that isn’t only you. “Searching is outside. Be with the guru, don’t search…” Kanai Da reminds us.  And in his discourse on knowledge of self, Alireza Nurbakhsh quotes Attar’s stanza explaining that when one reaches the stage of self-knowledge: He sees the core, not the outer layer, He does not see himself anymore, only the Friend.

—The Editors of SUFI

CALL FOR PAPERS

The editors of SUFI invite submissions of articles, stories, poetry, personal essays, and artistic works on all topics relating to mysticism. For details please visit www.sufijournal.org/submissions.

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