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necessary autumn

For this second week of my journey, I’ve prepared a few poems and what-nots I hope you will enjoy.  I wonder if this will also reflect my process over this week?

A Necessary Autumn Inside Each

You and I have spoken all these words, but as for the way
we have to go, words

are no preparation.  There is no getting ready, other than
grace.  My faults

have stayed hidden.  One might call that a preparation!
I have one small drop

of knowing in my soul.  Let it dissolve in your ocean.
There are so many threats to it.

Inside each of us, there’s continual autumn.  Our leaves
fall and are blown out

over the water.  A crow sits in the blackened limbs and talks
about what’s gone.  Then

your generosity returns: spring, moisture, intelligence, the
scent of hyacinth and rose

and cypress.  Joseph is back!  And if you don’t feel in
yourself the freshness of

Joseph, be Jacob!  Weep and then smile.  Don’t pretend to know
something you haven’t experienced.

There’s a necessary dying, and then Jesus is breathing again.
Very little grows on jagged

rock.  Be ground.  Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up
where you are.  You’ve been

stony for too many years.  Try something different.  Surrender.

Rumi

From The Soul of Rumi translated by Coleman Barks

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wake and walk out

If I flinched at every grief, I
would be an intelligent idiot.  If

I were not the sun, I’d ebb and
flow like sadness.  If you were not

my guide, I’d wander lost in Sanai.
If there were no light, I’d keep

opening and closing the door.  If
there were no rose garden, where

would the morning breezes go?  If
love did not want music and laughter

and poetry, what would I say?  If
you were not medicine, I would look

sick and skinny.  If there were no
leafy limbs in the air, there would

be no wet roots.  If no giftes were
given, I’d grow arrogant and cruel.

If there were no way into God, I
would not have lain in the grave of

this body so long.  If there were no
way from left to right, I could not

be swaying with the grasses.  If
there were no grace and no kindness,

conversation would be useless, and
nothing we do would matter.  Listen

to the new stories that begin every
day.  If light were not beginning

again in the east, I would not now
wake and walk out inside this dawn.

Rumi

(from The Soul of Rumi: a new collection of ecstatic poems

translated by Coleman Barks)