for the words

Dear readers, I'm currently in the process of compiling a selection of my songs and poems, with the intention of creating a volume that will include both. However, the songs to choose from vastly outnumber the poems—I've been involved with the songwriting much longer. Consequently, I'm in the process of writing poetry, to help the balance. Happily, I'm in a poetry writing mood.

So I wanted to share my newest poem here, for the words, which is about my spiritual practice and is in memory of my great Friend and spiritual Master, Ajaib Singh.

Thanks, as always, for coming by to read my blog. I welcome your comments.

                                     Namaste,   jesse s. hanson

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for the words

          –jesse s. hanson

How can I go forward

how can I be quiet

with a mind that will not

I close my eyes but the words fall from my ears

and will not stay inside

I'm so afraid of my imminent destruction

the awful risk of spiritual failure

I'm afraid of being driven from Your love

onto the featureless plain, alone

where no conversation with a friend of God remains

where no one sings and all songs are in vain

A most insistent, utterly silent voice is calling out in mourning

in anxious petition

In such uncertainty I scrabble about

unable to focus

on trembling hands and knees

grasping

for the words

that could catch Your ear

bring Your attention to me here 

I can't speak for fear of losing something

I can't be still for the hope of seeing someone

I've lost all fascinations

but too late

too late, too late, too late…

Don't let it be too late

Ajaib,  strangely wonderful, mystical lion

I've no recourse but Your good graces

I've haunted this place behind a million faces

and still, no one recognizes me

though I've appeared again and again with my relentless longing

although I've married their sons and daughters

fought beside them in their wars and died with them

filled their skies with my crazy raucous laughter

and then filled their bellies with my fetus

looked into their eyes, playing the infant

I've learned their ways, holding their faith

lost my way on their bitter streets

fell beneath their heavy feet

to return without their sympathy

I've lost all fascinations

but now my back is old and weak

and will not stand for dedication

to Your purpose

to Your perfect words of love

so… You repeat them in me

until I'm stronger

Having said it

having asked it

I lie down in exasperation

and dream a dream of realization

Across the glamorous sky in perfect silence

the moon in pallid dream reveals the course

the stars in all their brilliance cannot match her subtle bloom

flower of the night

keeper of the secrets

long held by the lovers and those inspired

to seek the distant truth within

O gentle light, so wan and thin

under which to weep for boys and men

whose character is never spent in vain

by whose delicate form my heart is soothed again

Ignite a pale spark of my resolve

a reminder, after all

What else is there to do

out on this trail of incarnations

I'm going to leave, for now, ambitions

concerns and dangerous missions

release them to the earth below

forget the things that I remember

and remember that I've come here searching

for words that tell no story

words that speak the truth

in the stillness of silence

in the music of unborn conscious spirit

no clinging now

no owning

no question how

no thinking

collecting words in mental silence