pours. “Don’t forget your job,” I
said. He came with his lighted
face, kissed the full glass, and as
he handed it to me, it became a
red-gold oven taking me in, a ruby
mine, a greening garden. Everyone
chooses a suffering that will change
him or her to a well-baked loaf.
Abu Lahab, biting his hand, chose
doubt. Abu Huraya, his love for
cats! One searches a confused mind
for evidence. The other has a
leather sack full of what he needs.
If we could be silent now, the
master would tell us some stories
they hear in the high council.
from The Soul of Rumi: a new collection of ecstatic poems translation by Coleman Barks
Thank you for practicing,