She spoke to me of being torn
to pieces when new life was
taken from her, all due to
not being ready to raise
the family her heart desires.
Rumi speaks of her sorrow saying:
“Speak to us of the soul that is torn to pieces,
Tell us of the amorous glance
That brands the heart anew.”
When I came to visit her
she was taken to the refuge
she had rejected months ago,
the hospital, safe haven
for the injured, be it
of body or of mind.
Again, the Pir Rumi says:
“I gave my heart freely,
Why do you run from me still?”
Now do I know as deeply
as each heart-felt sigh
that she does not fear me,
while Rumi asks, as I ask of myself:
“Why pour more sorrow on the hearts
Of the sorrowful?”
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