I know not! [0]

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When I looked upon the shattered mirror of Cite Soleil wherein beheld none but my true Self, and when every question was soundlessly strangled yet the forsaken Haitian became just a muffled answer or to be perfectly honest ‘the’ answer:

Are You a Lover? Or are You a Beloved?
                                          I know not
All being-ness is You, all and all, this or that
                                          I know not

And when the forgotten Haitian father lifted the almost lifeless body of his emaciated child—the most beautiful negra pearl indeed—it was then that I realized I lied when I said: “I love you” and you lied as well when you replied: “I love you too”:

Except You in the entire cosmos I see no other lover
Except You in the entire universe any other beloved
                                          I know not

It was then when the love unexpectedly pranced at humanity whereat all doves of sorrows startled away and it was then when all dolphins of fear dived deep into the sea of Oneness:

Except the anxiety of Your love within, I find none
Except the maddening love of reaching You
                                          I know not

I stood there in Cite Soleil, on one side my back towards the ocean of fears and on the opposite side facing the ocean of tears all the while could not stop wondering why everything can see You and yet ‘I’ can only see this abject misery:

Why in the eyes of every particle You are a sunshine
But how come so hidden from this bewildered Self
                                           I know not

This spiritual experience was abruptly interrupted when a thirsty 8 year old girl yelled asking for a dollar, and when I made it clear to her that could not trespass the UN’s barbed wires to give her anything, she yelled again: Tomorrow right? Tomorrow? And it was this false-hope this poison-dipped dagger that tore my cast-iron chest open:

With the hope of reaching You I soothe my heart
Then why I am unable to heal this heartache
                                           I know not

The Haitian girl walked away towards that tomorrow, which assuredly shall never come, and the souls of all Sufis screamed in unison within my burst-open chest:

I find You not in the heart nor in the entire cosmos
Where should I, the perplexed Self, seek You
                                            I know not

When Pakistani UN commander served the pot of curry rice-potato with drinking water one of my eyes saw emaciated Haitian children rushing towards the soldiers but my other eye saw a school of Haitian butterflies gliding through the Eden fluttering aloft the nectar of Mahab-bat (Divine Love) and the ugliness of my ignorance just a few unimportant sand grains blown violently into the Atlantic:

Amazingly I am seeing the beauty of Your Face so manifest
Yet do I comprehend what this ignorant Self is seeing
                                            I know not

This much I know:
The days and nights of the universe by Your face aglow
But is Your Face a blazing sun or a shining moon
                                             I know not

And finally when the Haitian butterflies scattered by the hurricane of my soberness and my eyes again blinded by the blight of this world, I found my Self behind the UN’s barbed wires and on the other side the Cite Soleil—the torture chamber... No! Wait a second! It is ‘I’ who is in the dungeons and ‘I’ have always been in these labyrinths crafted from the amnesia of That Beloved. And when the deer of my words fell silent by the arrow of Your ‘Ishq, surprisingly found my cellmate the prodigical Araqi humming along side my oozing blood:

In dungeons of Your separation, Araqi enchained
Would I be freed from this prison or not
                                             I know not

Here in Haiti, I am no longer and amongst my long-gone Sufi brothers who are chanting: Yā Dara time for poetry is over! Yā Dara time for pretending is over! Caravan is about to depart and 'now' is for loving timelessly thus set the lantern afire and let the gales of Oneness scatter your ashes at the gates of That Beloved’s courtyard…

Setting the lantern afire by the Haitian tears…

End.









[0] What is that you REALLY know? What is that you know which was not obtained without thinking or learning? What is that you know, innate and exclusively known to you?

You are an answer to a Divine Question! Every molecule of your DNA strands, every cell in your body, every thought and every second of the human history is an answer to a question asked by That Divine Beloved.


© 2005-2002,  Dara O. Shayda