"& then afterward" by Nate Pritts

(i)

I woke to early sun:
burning of fire, & then afterward.

We kept reaching
through the long night.


(ii)

Afterward,

the small deceptions
we allow ourselves:
a sickness, unchecked.
Like this:


(iii)

& first sunlight.
Snow continues.
I could never close my eyes to light.

But there was no light
& you looked like night.


(iv)

There must be a pattern,

snow slow-dropping in wet clusters
through the wooden arms
of empty trees.


(v)

Sun fingering its way
through branches

I’d hung my life on.
We don’t matter a bit; realization
forces our eyes closed—


(vi)

A sickness, unchecked, like this.
I’d hung my life on

burning of fire, & then afterward.


(vii)

Our arms together
we searched for patterns

& sunlight.


(viii)

Our arms laced together,
pointing together
over wind-tossed grasses.

Us: waist deep in night blue.


(ix)

There was no light.
You pointed.


(x)

Sun overhead,
you pointed
to the wind-tossed grasses.
This is a memory now.


(xi)

Together in that first sun,
so vivid:
there must be a pattern

I’d hung my life on.


(xii)

Snow dropped in clusters,
staggered & jagged.

We don’t matter a bit.


(xiii)

Reflected in lake water:
all these things I’ll forget.


(xiv)

Our arms together

but we keep reaching
over the wind-tossed grasses.


(xv)

Black smoke curling:

the importance
of night-blue field grass,


(xvi)

the importance of.

The stars are close; we try to hold together.


(xvii)

All this ends
but until then:

burning of fire, & then afterward.
The stars are close; we try to hold.
Such distance between the fallen!


(xviii)

Burning of fire, & then afterward.

You pointed.


(xix)

Grasses silently fold,
a sickness, unchecked, reaching. Like this.

Wooden arms of trees
long since emptied.


(xx)

This ends in darkness,
& all the stars within reach,
& other constellations.

Nate Pritts, "& then afterward" from The Wonderfull Yeare (a shepherd’s calendar). Copyright © 2009 by Nate Pritts.

Leave Taking by Louise Bogan

I do not know where either of us can turn

Just at first, waking from the sleep of each other.

I do not know how we can bear

The river struck by the gold plummet of the moon,

Or many trees shaken together in the darkness.

We shall wish not to be alone

And that love were not dispersed and set free—

Though you defeat me,

And I be heavy upon you.

But like earth heaped over the heart

Is love grown perfect.

Like a shell over the beat of life

Is love perfect to the last.

So let it be the same

Whether we turn to the dark or to the kiss of another;

Let us know this for leavetaking,

That I may not be heavy upon you,

That you may blind me no more.

You Worry Too Much - Rumi

Oh soul,
you worry too much.
Look at yourself,
what you have become.
You are now a field of sugar canes,
why show that sour face to me?
You have tamed the
winged horse of Love.
Of a death of a donkey,
why do you worry?
You say that I keep you warm inside.
Then why this cold sigh?
You have gone to the roof of heavens.
Of this world of dust, why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
Since you met me,
you have become a master singer,
and are now a skilled wrangler,
you can untangle any knot.
Of life's little leash
why do you worry?
Your arms are heavy
with treasures of all kinds.
About poverty,
why do you worry?
You are Joseph,
beautiful, strong,
steadfast in your belief,
all of Egypt has become drunk
because of you.
Of those who are blind to your beauty,
and deaf to your songs,
why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You say that your housemate is the
Heart of Love,
she is your best friend.
You say that you are the heat of
the oven of every Lover.
You say that you are the servant of
Ali's magical sword, Zolfaghar.
Of any little dagger
why do you still worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You have seen your own strength.
You have seen your own beauty.
You have seen your golden wings.
Of anything less,
why do you worry?
You are in truth
the soul, of the soul, of the soul.
You are the security,
the shelter of the spirit of Lovers.
Oh the sultan of sultans,
of any other king,
why do you worry?
Be silent, like a fish,
and go into that pleasant sea.
You are in deep waters now,
of life's blazing fire.
Why do you worry?

From: 'Hush Don't Say Anything to God: Passionate Poems of Rumi'
Translated by Sharam Shiva