An Old Musician

How
Should
Those who know of God
Meet and
Part?

The way
An old musician
Greets his beloved
Instrument

And will take special care,
As a great artist always does,

To enhance the final note
Of each

Performance.

By Hafiz

You Came To Me

You came to me like you knew who I was,
You said my name like you had said it a hundred times,
You stood next to me as if there was no where left to stand,
You left without saying goodbye so many times,
but you said hello better than a thousand goodbyes.

You pulled me in,
Away from myself.
You left me swimming,
Searching amidst the waves for glances of you.
You always came back to me because I was always there,
a life preserver in uncharted waters.

Your eyes held me like the moon holds the tides
With ability to fill me so full I cannot swallow
or to take it all away,
thirsting for you and your next flood.

I stayed with the patience of stars,
Always there, shining
Rarely noticed from inside closed doors

I let you in,
Under the waves, under the covers of insecurities,
To let you sleep in my bed,
My place of safety,
My place of hope.

You listened to my dreams only to tell me of your own,
You touched my body to quiet your mind,
To find solace inside something soft,
if only for a moment,
An escape from the hardness of yourself.

You love with convenience, trust with anger,
Sleep with the restlessness of the ghosts you carry in your soul,
and live each day wishing for the end,
The great last cheap thrill to take you away
In some kind of blur, some kind of story, some kind of glorified lie.

You look at me like you know that there is more,
There is love,
There is God,
There is hope for you.

The River

Straight, solid, centered, safe.
I thought my path would be until I met the River.
A boat for a classroom, the lessons could be harsh,
Punishing a lack of attention or poor judgment,
Cold mountain currents pulled me from my craft and bounced me
Through rapids, pummeling against unyielding rocks.
When the volume is high, the obstacles change.
Maintaining my direction,
Committing to a course, proved more difficult than anticipated.
Whitewater rapids demanded all my focus, all my strength.
No changes to curriculum, I was informed the only way out is through.
As the River widened, gentler lessons were given: find the V,
The tongue, follow the bubble line to catch the deepest current;
Let the water push you forward with the least effort.
Golden eagles, blue herons, white pelicans,
Beavers were classroom monitors, witnessing my failures and progress.
Upon graduation I learned to follow the currents with grace and ease,
Not to push the river but move within it.
I found my path-
It was in the water.

~Diane Bergstrom