“This is a poem by Rumi I’ve been carrying around.” I clear my throat and read: I said Oh no! Help me! And that Oh no! became a rope let down in my well. I’ve climbed out to stand here in the sun. One moment I was at the bottom of a dank, fearful narrowness, and the next, I am not contained by the universe. If every tip of every hair on me could speak, I still couldn’t say my gratitude. In the middle of these streets and gardens, I stand and say and say again, and it’s all I say, I wish everyone could know what I know.
