She’s quiet about her love.
but it fills the forms where she lives.
Each room ordered in a vision
that reflects her inner self.
I run up to her and I hug her
and she replies, “Here…”
“Here, with these rooms that I share with you,
here, I give you what I am.
Here, where my eyes and hands
have past over things ten-thousand times,
be here with me in this,
my inner garden.
gallagher
1Feb2019
Copyright 1965-2019 by Dennis Gallagher
The message behind the words
is the voice of the heart.
~ Rumi
The Match
The early dusk sky was still ablaze
with the glowing embers of the dying day.
I saw you hunched over the burning funeral ghats,
inhaling the smoky perfume of charred flesh and bone
like a macabre dope fiend, then go drunkenly staggering
through the sewer-lined streets of the night-time town,
brazenly juggling flaming batons of birth and death
like some crazy carnival clown on a grisly spree.
Look, in the temples and shrine rooms your devotees
are offering gilded gifts at the makeshift altars of their
superstitious fantasies, but I can see you, Devi, and I
know that you’re only doing your job, so no praise
or blame will escape my lips, just get on with it:
this world is dry tinder, you wield the match.
Bob O’Hearn