the one who speaks to your soul
you ignore
why
you came of your own accord
the one who sees you as light
you slight
why
you came here by birthright
these guides hide behind
poems
as the sun
peeks through clouds
as hearts lack recognition
of roses in their very garden
Gulistan or Bustan
Junaidi or Bistami
every nation has a Saadi;
the nightingale of Shirazi
a Jami or Rumi
what does it matter
when their utterances
are one
no former or latter
learn from
the Persians
who bowed to their poets
raised them as prophetess
as saviors and sages
flocked to tombs
to be perfumed
in rose gardens
contempt and skepticism
you hold for causes and isms
poets who breathe empathy
remind us of reality
their heart’s sing
a heavenly melody
you listen discreetly
assumingely a stranger
yet her words speak volumes
to hearts who seek
the wine of Divine
through words sublime
the time is nigh
to hang poetry high
in mosques and temples
where once upon a time
idols reigned
when Okaz brought fame
to tribes and nations
now what has become
of Arabs estranged
from the language
of love that runs in
their blood