I am circling around God… and I have been circling for a thousand years, and I still don’t know if I am a falcon, a storm, a great song – or a tiny little seed.
But I am beginning to love this voice. It is clear and light, a voice without seasons, like bells over a green city, or snowfall on the roots of orchids. Thy voice is a greening thing, an enemy of storm and dark and winter.
My hard-worn face seeks refuge between Your Hands, my heart longs to transcend, to have some pure contained little strip of orchard between river and rock.
I have seen shadows that live in the sun. The pain of loving you is almost more than I can bear. The light starts up where you stand, and the darkness reels back. Who, if I cried, would hear me amongst the angelic orders?
Beloved, I’ll think of love that will not end, children sleeping, thoughts holy, quiet things. One must know how the birds fly, and the way the little flower opens in the morning.
Don’t ask to what extent I’ve endured love’s pain
or just how I’ve taken the pain of separation.
Through this world I’ve gone, and in the end I’ve chosen
The Ravisher of Hearts. Rumi
Prose poem by Dorothy Lontz.
[Editor’s note: This beautiful poem by DL begins with echoes of Rilke and ends with Rumi. You can hear Brother David Steindl-Rast on “The Great Song” here, where he quotes the opening Rilke line.]
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