Poem to Iranians

 

i heard it said of Rabia
that the only thing she owned
was a small brick that she used
as a pillow

i imagine God smiles upon such a soul

—there are spaces
within the human heart, spaces
that can open and spaces that
can deepen

how many tragedies, how many disasters
how many loves, how many triumphs,
and how much light? 

may the human heart, for the remainder 
of this 21st century become a beacon,
a lighthouse, a star with its various points and its
luminous stature standing undefeated in the sky

and what if this work of being human, 
what if this work of witnessing the heart's openings
is the work of a distant star amidst day light—

whether or not the Romans and the Persians 
ever stopped warring, there is an opening
in my heart for you, there is an opening
in my heart for your heart, for your
way of being, for your way of being human