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My heart is looted of its treasure. I’m the one
to blame. Careless, I left the vault unguarded.
I lit the altar candle, my heart caught fire.
Now desire burns through my body.
If I could burn my foolish heart to ashes
then I might find relief, end my sorrow.
Seeking solace, I go to the ocean.
Drowning deep, waves caress, I drift.
My heart was arid wilderness. Your love
makes it moist, a garden, paradise.
I wish I could pour out my longing. My grief
would be a hymn, my pain a psalm.
Birds go to the fields to peck at corncobs. I don’t
gather corn, I gather tears that fall in floods.
When at the feast of love, be glad — and wise.
Guard your cup of wine. I drank mine too fast.
Makhfi: Your eyes are heavy with sleep.
Bone-deep weariness weighs upon your spirit.
Rest.
