#barakablue

She wrote poems in secret She wrote secrets in poems And said she only felt communion When she sat silent all alone She appeared odd and quiet But sat politely just the same She wore the clothes of the simple And her room was small and plain But within it was a window That looked out upon the sea The firmament beyond it, And the fire underneath Those who ventured in her chamber Said no such window they could find She'd just look at them with sadness And say, "This window's in the mind." They'd say, "Come outside, it's springtime There's a world out here to see". She'd say, "There's nothing in the cosmos That's not already here with me." They said she's gone agoraphobic By depression she’s been had Anxiety has gripped her And a fever's made her mad But the poems she had written Were of sweet September rain Love's immortal flowers Gardens green that never fade How truth itself and beauty Become one beneath the grave And really always have been, Though a tongue can scarce explain She wrote her poems in secret She wrote secrets in her poems And though no one could match her She died humble and unknown.

Imam Haddad and Black Elk speak with the same voice when will you see that all language is symbols all letters are signs? idols of clay and water but the spirit resides read between the lines read beyond between read behind, read within don’t just read the skin read into her eyes and realize that you are kin your sister- it was who gave birth to you your mother- it was who nurtured you your father- it was who searched for you when you were lost and tossed into the waves of what was worst for you but when they messeged in a bottle you uncorked and you swallowed each letter ever written upon the scroll of old and hollowed be thy names arranged inside the microcosms marrow shown the way to follow the path the ancestors have modeled and it was their eyes staring back at you through yesterdays tomorrow as the night sky spoke a silent language that we all know and you remember you were always literate in that glittering sun script and the vision seemed realer than reality as the celestial scales unveiled their symmetry and now the speech was close and clear like thunder whispering in your ear with a harmony so precise it let escape no noise and Imam Haddad and Black Elk spoke with the same voice ancestors, angels sung the chorus that went, “You, you have no choice you’ve been chosen remember why you came if you forget you’ve been destroyed” it was gorgeous in its awesomeness beyond a pleasure or a pain it was all our souls together bearing witness on that plain it was a million precious reed flutes carefully carved and given breath a single truth on fire in each and every breast its Lao Tzu and Ghotama Moses, Jesus, all the rest it’s the light of Muhammad coursing through your very flesh it is the counsel of elders sages, seers, and of saints its all your ancestral mothers saying, “hush child it is late” it’s the glorious copulation of a joined free will and fate the completion of the circle its Adams reawaked state to realize all creation all his children’s stories great was all simply a vision right before he almost ate as all one formless body it bows and it prostrates “am I not your Lord?” answering, “Yes” in one voice quaked.