I sent you a copy of Hafez,
There was lots of Rumi on the shelf
Something of a confirmation
Of where I thought of myself
Days later, a call, a thank you,
A “thank you but”, and, silence,
Then, how things had changed
And I had not been a presence.
I said, I would reply, so I thought,
But Hafez holds my hands away
He reminds me of your broken times
Where I listened to all you had to say.
I say nothing. But take Hafez once more:
“No one, not even Hafiz, can describe with words the Great Mystery.
No one knows in which shell the priceless pearl does hide.”