Coleman Barks' translations of Rumi's poetry are the reason I allowed myself to feel intimate with God. For so long, I allowed people to convince me that such a feeling was proud and blasphemous. Ha, ha, ha! As if I couldn't come up with hubris for other reasons! This poem is the first one that I realized was modeled directly on Barks' versions of Rumi. Barks did such a great job.
For anyone who believes that feeling close to God can make someone overly proud, I don't know what they experience of God or what they believe intimacy is, but I can't feel it. Letting go of being so judgmental about myself and every little thing I did allowed me to open up about other people too. I don't know if that has anything to do with divine mercy, but it has to do with human mercy. It all led me towards being more relaxed, and that let most of the pressure out of my uptightness and social weirdness (which tended to make me too judgmental and proud).
I have heard enough people claim a certain closeness as if that makes them special. When people take them seriously, it reinforces the hubris and delusion. Anyone who feels close has no need to dispute anyone else's closeness. Being close to God is not so easy and doesn't lead to being overly proud. God supposedly said, "My word is like fire and a hammer that breaks rock." Yeah, cozy up to that with your human fallibilities and see how proud you come out! The people who pretend to be close and those who are judgmental about pretensions are competing for the same social status, the same "high" ground. I wish them wisdom or luck; they're going to need a change.
Some bow where they worship,
burning incense,
and some dance.
My reverence is displayed
in this longing for You.
In the longing is remembrance
of a kiss.
I don't know if in the kissing
is any memory at all.
My lips are trembling again.
You answer my mouth
with your mouth.
I exist
solely to ask
You this.
If the yearning were not complete,
would You meet this prayer?
You brushed my cheek when I was young.
Now, again.
Rumi said: send not love, but
the desire for love.
Your warmth spreads through my being
direct from emptiness.
One way and one other,
I forget everything.
My lips touch the ground.
Blessed by this touch
none of us understand
this constant giving away.
At one moment, I am only
a display.
In that moment, You are here,
removing all traces of You.
When we are alone, nothing is left
of me.
Your presence is the fragrant smoke
before a match could be struck,
a warmth that remains
long after the burning.
Copyright 2007 Todd Mertz