Parched Earth, Quenched Heart

Irony, the beautiful mosaic of a fragmented heart
What more brings rain to remembrance?
O'Beloved, I remember.

It is in my silence
that You hear
how my burning thirst
mouths a drought of tears.

Hearts pump harder
when we bleed, as
Absence sounds the hollows
Of the waiting reed.

Into enormity of emptiness,
the vastness of the beloved to disclose
The sweetest water ever sipped
- by the lovers parched and longing lip -
is the fragrance of the wine red rose.

Inspired by a dear friend, Omid Safi, who wrote:  "This parched earth is our heart. 'Know that God revives the earth after it was dead.' Qur'an 57:17.  Our hearts are like this too: something parched, starving for the rain of affection, and then, miraculously, brought back to life. Praise be to the One who revives what was abandoned for dead, with the water of life….love unleashed."


Writers Comment
Poem adapted from my original note:

It is our silence He hears.
It is our thirst that drinks.
The heart pumps harder, when we bleed.
It is the lightness of absence
that moves the tides of company.
It is the vast emptiness
in which the enormity of the beloved
discloses.