Compassion

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,
break all our teacup talk of god.
If you had the courage and could give the beloved his choice,
some nights, he would just drag you around the room by your hair,
ripping from your grip all those toys in the world that bring you no joy.

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
and wants to rip to shreds all your erroneous notions of truth
that make you fight within yourself, dear ones, and with others
causing the world to weep on too many fine days.

God wants to manhandle us,
lock us inside of a tiny room with himself and practice his dropkick.
The beloved sometimes wants to do us a great favor:
hold us upside down and shake all the nonsense out.
But when we hear, he is in such a "playful drunken mood"
most everyone I know quickly
packs their bags and hightails it out of town.


HAFIZ, the Gift