By Hafiz, Sufi master
The sun’s eyes are painting fields again.
Its lashes with expert strokes
Are sweeping across the land.
A great palette of light has embraced
Hafiz, if just a little clay and water
Mixed in His bowl
Can yield such exquisite scents, sights,
Music – and whirling forms –
What unspeakable wonders must await with
The commencement of unfolding
Of the infinite number of petals
That are the
What excitement will renew your body
When we all begin to see
That His heart resides in
God has a root in each act and creature
That He draws His mysterious
Divine life from.
His eyes are painting fields again.
The Beloved with His own hands is tending,
Raising like a precious child,
This poem was a central message of a retreat I made years ago. Now it speaks to me again, just as we enter the time of autumn where the leaves will know the great palette of light from the sun. And His eyes will be painting fields again.
The poem opens me up to know in a deep and penetrating way that God resides in me. I hear God say, “I made you.” This never gets old, never loses its energy.
I just wish I could give attention to it more often. What would it be like to always know that God resides in me? In each act? In all my feelings, aspirations, hopes, and wondering? What would it be like for me to so deeply realize how much I am rooted in God, rather, that God is rooted in me? And that, like this poem, God draws divine life from me, from you, from every human being and creature on earth?
I hope I see what God sees in other people, what God sees in the world around me. I hope the divine life that resides in those who hate, those who are angry, can one day be disarmed. I hope that the hearts of those who are angry and fearful can break open into peace. I’m thinking about that because we just marked 20 years since the September 11th attacks. And I’m feeling very helpless about the recent explosion of violence in our world these days.
God is rooted in every act and creature, in the leaf that turns to fiery red, in the painted fields, in the hearts of those who suffer. God is somewhere buried in the hearts of those who hate so intensely they can commit such violence. I can only wonder about it. It is mysterious to me — such capacity for hate— and I wonder how we can hold at the same time, such beauty in one hand and such darkness in the other.
Only God. Only God.