Poem: Compassionate Zone

Streaks of color in the sky —
can it be the blood of angels?

The sky itself —
can it be the breath of God?

In the underbrush a noise —
a something’s there

cleaning house?

The four or five or more
dimensions —

a ghost’s body
giving birth to life?

We travel to the cardinal points —
then are we anywhere

but at our starting point?

Questions come
and are themselves the answers —

a Cyclops or unicorn
as easily as an ant?

Staring into the air
are we gazing at

God’s aquarium?
Loving each other to the bone —

are we loving any
other than God?

You’re seventy-two Abdal-Hayy
yet you’re still a child —

Still at sea
any closer to the shore?

Or is the sea the answer?

Love comes in a puddle
as well as a pillow —

Do you breathe it in
and exhale its

compassionate zone?

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12/11/12 (from Next Life, in progress, insha’Allah)