Sweep the anger under the carpet
Drive the pain away in the attic
Lock the shame in the closet
Abandon the fear at the fence
Bury the guilt in the garden
Hide the care in the basement
Hang a smile when it’s all done
But know what shall then befall
You can’t numb them just some
Without numbing them all.
Notes:
The opening verse of Masnavi, Rumi’s greatest work, is one of the most translated lines in poetry.
Beshno in ney chon shekaayat mikonad Az jodaayiha hekaayat mikonad
“Listen to this reed, how it tells a tale of separations, how it speaks of longing.”
The reed, a simple end-blown flute made from hollow river cane, was once rooted. Part of a living reed bed, connected to soil and water. That cut is what makes music possible but the reed never forgets the cutting.
The hollow inside it, which produces the sound, is the wound of separation. Without the hollow, there is no music. Without the cut, there is no longing. Without the longing, there is no song.
Inspired by that, a poem on what we do instead
breathe. feel. love. 