The Astrolabe

Let’s feather a quill-pen
Out of light, stars & planets
Make her sable our paper & with dazzled eyes
Write sorrow upon the bosom of her darkness

Let’s craft an astrolabe
Out of genocide, hunger & ailment
Make her sorrow our
horizon & with blind eyes
Measure the longitude and latitude of the heavens

Let’s braid a rope
Out of laments, sobs & moans
Make her orphan our Joseph & with squinting eyes
Raise out of the well the lost love of the Jacob

Let’s hoe a garden
Out of loss, ignorance & decadence
Make her hope our Abraham & with raining eyes
Shower the flames into the blooming flowers

Let’s build a frame
Out of lies, deceits & deceptions
Make her skin our mirror & with wondering eyes
Gaze upon that Divine Beloved’s reflections

© 2004-2002,  Dara O. Shayda