The Oceanics

“I have a thirsty fish in me
That can never find enough
Of what it is thirsty for
Show me the way to the ocean…” Rumi, Divan: 1823

My Share of Incompleteness

I press my guitar tight
Against the bruise in the center of my chest
The footprint of longing.

The incompleteness of the moment
-the slender string in the dark-
Pulls with the power of a magnetic field
As my fingers move on the fingerboard
In search of drifting songs
Ebbs and flows
Cool ocean currents
To calm the thirsty fish inside.

The summer night is alive
With a million crickets singing outside my window

---

In the morning
I get to the park early
Running and breathing in
Every blade of grass
Until the little silvery cup in me
Is filled with a rare dancing green
Which I would call
“The essence of all summery gardens”
If it had to be called something!

Puzzled, charmed, mesmerized
With the longing, the incompleteness
That remains from the night before
That radiates from the center of my chest
I run and look for the ocean
in bright sunshine
“I can die with the joy of this longing”
I think as I drink the cool morning mist
“Or live two hundred years!”

---

Later,
In the kitchen
I listen to a drummer working wonders on the “daf”
And chop onions for a Persian dish

Moving to the rhythm of the “daf”
I smile at the finely chopped little sound bits
That dance with me on the kitchen floor

“A completed sentence has said
Everything it has to say.”
I catch myself thinking
“The summer night is alive
Until the crickets long for singing.”
“If turning in circles stops
Whirling will end!”

I laugh out loud
Intrigued suddenly
With the charming incompleteness of the universe
Not chopping onions anymore
My hands search on my chest
For my share of incompleteness

---

Onion bits are whirling in the pot
I am dancing bare feet on the kitchen floor
The daf plays loud in my chest

Cool playful ocean waves
Clime up my toes and reach my ankles
Scattering pebbles on the floor I cleaned the night before.

September 18, 2000, St. Louis

“I have a thirsty fish in me
That can never find enough
Of what it is thirsty for
Show me the way to the ocean…” Rumi, Divan: 1823

The Ocean and You

I would take middle roads, if I must
But I have to warn you,
Walking a sober slow pace is not one of my strengths.
In fact, I usually forget to walk altogether,
Distracted by the wonders of the world around me,
Until something goes wrong,
Panic strikes and the slow are trampled under feet.
Then the whirling me comes to life,
And dances its way through the dead end.
Dancing is one of my strengths.

I am somewhat unusual, I would say
I demand the right to be a foolish moth,
Anytime my heart soars,
Or the urge to fly builds up in my wings.
Sometimes flying into naked flames,
Is the quickest way to touch the glow of life.
And I must admit,
Patience is not one of my strengths.

---

Are you a moth?
Will you be one for me?
Do you have a dancer inside?
Will you whirl your way through times of separation?
There is so much that I know and yet don’t know about you.
Will you be patient for both of us?
Will you be patient when I ask for what I already have?
When I ask for all of you, all the time?

I understand if you feel scared
By my dancing too close to the flames.
But will you promise not to let giving
Feel like balancing on a tight rope?
When it should really feel like
Opening up to a comforting breeze.
Will you be a river and flow around the boulders that block
Your way?
Being reasonable is not one of my strengths
But I promise not to argue with the shape of the earth.

---

Whatever you do
You must remember
Always
To let me be the “thirsty fish”
The fish “that never finds enough of what it is thirsty for”
Being able to be thirsty is my true strength
Don’t look for a cure
Just bring the ocean in the palm of your hands
And I will let the joy of drinking every drop
Be a dance to the rhythm of our heartbeats
Piercing the silence of hesitation till the end of time

Remember! Dancing is my other strength.

St. Louis, September 10, 2000

“I have a thirsty fish in me
That can never find enough
Of what it is thirsty for
Show me the way to the ocean…” Rumi, Divan: 1823

The Ocean and Me

The thirsty fish is here
All day…all night
The ever longing for more
The dream of a distant blue
And the captive seagull inside
Agitating to break open the cage of my body.

“How much more of this longing can I take?” I speak into
the void, hoping no one answers back
And hear my own panic-stricken voice
“Where is the ocean? Is there an ocean?”
And sit as waves of fear wash over my exhausted body…

My anger finds a chance – and a tired
And does not lose a moment”:
“What do you call this? Longing?
“More a devastating quake”
“A fiery flash of lightening
“That leaves no greenness alive”
“And God, it is pathetic!
“The way you are drawn to it!
“As if its fiery lashes
“Were a refreshing drink of water
“Or food from heaven for your starving soul
“Don’t you see? This ‘longing’ only feeds itself!”

I am too tired to argue,
And smell conspiracy in everything
Even in the gentle whispering unknown
That echoes in my heartbeat:
“Run!
“Run to the flame and end it all!
“Don’t be afraid!
“This is the way to begin”

There is all the temptation in the world to do just that
But I am too tired to run
Tired even to be afraid
All I can do
Is to grab the confusion of the moment
And hold it tight
Feeling the comfort of not being able to clarify anything
Or to tell who is “right”

---

I wake up to a gentle comforting breeze
And to the thought of your smile,
A shimmering cool blue on the distant horizon
I reach out and feel
The wave of serenity
That wraps around my whole body

And look!
I never set foot outside my shady garden
The ocean journeyed to meet me!

St. Louis, Sept. 7 2000