Naila Francis's Page

(FROM 8/18 PRAYER CALL)

O Endless Creator, Force of Life, Seat of the Unconscious,
Dharma, Atman, Ra, Qalb, Dear Center of our Love,
Christlight, Yaweh, Allah, Mawu,
Mother of the Universe...

Let us, when swimming with the stream,
become the stream...
Let us, when moving with the music,
become the music...
Let us, when rocking the wounded,
become the suffering...

Let us live deep enough
till there is only one direction...
and slow enough till there is only
the beginning of time...
and loud en… Continue

Let it come --
whether it rises from the well of grief
or pitches forward in predatory longing,
though it tumbles from a nameless source
or strikes out from fleeting solitude.
Cut a path.
Trim the reluctance,
that in its pruned protests
fear will know your naked gaze,
hiding impossible
for you
or the phantom thoughts
scurrying ahead of so much
stainless posturing and well-tended order.
The agenda can wait.
So, too, the lists
and needs that steal you
from this soul prayer.
Let it come --
the achi… Continue

"TIRED OF SPEAKING SWEETLY," by Hafiz


Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,
Break all our teacup talk of God.
If you had the courage and
Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,
He would just drag you around the room
By your hair,
Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world
That bring you no joy.
Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
And wants to rip to shreds
All your erroneous notions of truth
That make you fight within yourself, dear one,
And with others,
Ca… Continue

"LET EVENING COME"

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in… Continue

From "RILKE'S BOOK OF HOURS: LOVE POEMS TO GOD"

I am praying again, Awesome One.

You hear me again, as words
from the depths of me
rush toward you in the wind.

I've been scattered in pieces,
torn by conflict,
mocked by laughter,
washed down in drink.

In alleyways I sweep myself up
out of garbage and broken glass.
With my half-mouth I stammer you,
who are eternal in your symmetry.
I lift to you my half-hands
in wordless beseeching, that I may find again
the eyes with which I once beheld you.… Continue