I have been really loving autumn this year, somehow thriving on the starkness… That is probably part of what drove me to write this poem, Rumi in Ridgway Park. Something about the dryness of the leaves and the starkness hit several chords in me at once—one chord that resonated with the surrender of the fallen leaves and another chord that longed for the glory of the recently passed fall colors. And so it was, as often happens, that a line from Rumi came and helped lead me toward a deeper surrender even as I rail against it. Rumi in Ridgway Park (With a quote from “On Letting Go,” by Rumi, Ghazal (Ode) 323 Translation by Nader Khalili) They’re all brown now, the leaves that last week rained soft gold. Brown. No, there is nothing soft about the way they crunch and crackle underneath my feet as I weave inconsistent paths around the park. I find me wishing impossible things, a longing for the way things were, such soft gold leaves, the war...
Women's Spiritual Poetry