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Like a temple curtain wrapping around the
holy of holies, your dark and musky hair
hides your face, denies me the sight of you.
My heart stays hungry.
Reason speeds runners through the valley
of desire. We have a different sort of strength,
thorns and brambles the remedies we take
for pain and weariness.
I sit alone, longing for you night after night,
tears drenching my desolate heart. Struggling
to free myself, I’ve tried to untie the knot of fate.
I’ve only broken my bleeding fingernails.
Putting on a party, feasting with friends,
I offer wine and music to my guests.
Best vintage: the wine of tears.
Classic tunes: one sad song after another.
Happy lover: Your success is strutting high
above us, your shadow longer than a
superhero’s, your arrogant soul as brightly
feathered as the phoenix rising to the sky.
Crucified by sorrow, a true believer lost
his life to you. Still, he didn’t win what I
have won: a new delight that blesses me,
a grace my friends could never know.
Your face is a luminous flower, made rosy
by tears. What dreams arise within your
heart? Ever flowing, my tears wash clean
the cup in which I see the world displayed.
Bearing the weight of sorrow for your sake
my love grows stronger, prouder, patient,
like the captive bird who decorates her cage
as garden, knowing she’ll never be free.
Look, Makhfi, Love’s path is long, difficult.
Be strong, don’t look back. The temple where
you bow your head and pray, the image of
divinity lovelier than you can imagine —
you’ll desire them, you’ll find them.
