Washing Our Feet

Is there anything as pointless
As talking about wisdom?
You cannot make love without lovemaking
Or bread with nouns and verbs.
Wisdom feels about words
As the sea feels about bottled water:
The tiny cousin who took a bad road
Long ago and came into trouble.
Shall we talk about the sunset?
About the sensation of breathing
As we stand in the waves
And the sea crashes in
All about us?

While you speculate about existence
Life is dancing on your shoulder,
Flirting with your elbows
And making plans to run away
With your beautiful ankles.

The white gulls are circling.
The foam-touched cormorant
Skims the water in silence.
The far-off reefs and
Unknown depths hold
Secrets they will never share,
But a warm wind is rising
And my skin tastes of the sea.

Say nothing;
Hold my hand.
Close your mouth
And open your eyes.

Here we are.

Let’s walk through the water
And let the unspeakable waves
Wash wisdom from our feet.


11 thoughts on “Washing Our Feet

  1. ‘Life is dancing on your shoulder,
    Flirting with your elbows
    And making plans to run away
    With your beautiful ankles.’ – That is so Hafiz and Hafiz is my very favourite poet. Bravo and hallelujah! A wonderful poem. Now I shall close my mouth and walk through it again.

  2. I bought a Hafiz-o-matic Poetry Generator on eBay and intend to use it as much as I can before it dances off the table and into God’s arms ;)

    (And thank you for the kind words, Lunar – even in the midst of studying, there has to be some poetry…)

  3. Thank you Tom for the beautiful poem! It certainly has shown the power of words to create psychic images and therefore psychic reality and yes, wisdom….though that may not have been your intent here : )

  4. Thank you, all!
    This paradox, of using pointed words to point out the pointlessness of words…
    You have to laugh, eh?
    And laugh and laugh and laugh…

    Whichever way the mind turns, it comes to paradox in the end. Best at that point to give in to the heart, the gut, the super-soul and the myriad other compasses of Being…

    And keep writing pointlessly, but because it has to be written, as water has to flow downhill and flowers follow the sun.


  5. Yes! Your words remind me of Hafiz:

    “If you think that the Truth can be known from words,
    If you think that the Sun and the Ocean
    Can pass through that tiny opening called the mouth.
    O someone should start laughing!
    Someone should start wildly laughing—

    Thanks again. I think I’m in love with your poem. (:

    1. Thanks, Marjory – my exasperation with wisdom-speak continues unabated, but tempered slightly with the awareness that we are, by and large, such strange, lost animals that we cannot help but continually mistake the finger for the moon, poetry for prose and maps for territory…

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