Darvish Khan Writes

worn out and broken down- we long for you now;
help us to revive our rhythm and renew our vow.

we are desperate, o god, with our condition-
there is no honor in this pathetic dereliction!

that we love you is beyond all reasonable doubt;
our tired feet are halting, and betray spirit’s drought.

we gasp, and struggle to move with sincerity;
our shadow laughs at us, “and where is your verity?”

tomorrow will come and go, and so will romeo-
today the heart cries out, where does my courage flow?

the crimson dawn inspires a final resolution:
each breath will repeat your name with conviction.

by the grace of the master, darvish moves his feet;
the sun rises, blood sings and all doubt beats retreat!

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We have surrendered to you as lord, master and friend;
your glory as truth and beauty we have sworn to defend.

Our allegiance to the past is buried with a shovel-
we no longer live in rite and ritual’s shoddy hovel.

Truth’s bright flame does not burn in religious cant,
but smolders in the black smoke of priestly rant.

Institutional faith has passed its expiration date:
moldy white bread served on a gilded dinner plate!

We no longer despair about religion’s integrity-
long ago we consigned it to outhouse probity.

We have remained cheerful despite spiritual filth:
the beloved’s smile uplifts us with joyous mirth.

Our great fortune is to no longer bother with the dull-
Darvish cries out with each breath, the beloved is all in all!

italics: line from francis brabazon

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My memory revives the time of your long curly hair,
how it released such scented bliss and rich despair!

The eternal living ancient one was your visage;
repeat the beloved’s name earnestly was your message.

A slap from your soft hand sent robust men flying,
a glance from your steel eyes- continuous crying.

Your dargah was called manzel-e-meem, house of the master;
all of your disciples saw in you the light of Zoroaster:

The name newly given you was Meher, and means the sun;
it also means love and mercy, or simply, compassion.

Like your father- a fakir, poverty was your glory,
and the infinite wealth of heart your unending story.

Darvish, cry and cry again to see his long curly hair,
but about his fierce beauty and soft hands- beware!

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The spinning earth celebrates your holy throne,
the four directions are united in you, their king.

The ground and sky exalt you with lasting embrace;
the stars circle around your radiant face.

All the five elements cohere at your pleasure,
your breath animates every form’s measure.

Life and death applaud your silent presence;
neither would have existence in your absence.

Heaven and hell cry out in praise of your name-
but for you, above and below would be the same.

You are Qutub, the divine axis of creation-
the pivot and center of our immense elation!

Darvish whirls about the Avatar, his Master;
by his grace, this dance will be no disaster!

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we only met you after you left your body behind,
but we know you to be compassionate, most kind.

your loving presence has always remained with us-
even awakening the stony heart to feel your kiss.

stone must break to release the secret joy within-
only dust can rise to the clap of the master’s whim.

age after age rolls by to crush the hardened heart,
we must long for the master and from him never part.

god help us to believe in our own grinding pain-
there is no other way to abide in lover’s lane.

the world throws salt on the wounds of our endeavor,
we cry out for grace to unite us with you forever.

the dawn breeze spoke to darvish about god’s deep trust-
one day, by the master’s touch, he will be singing dust!

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