Jackson Pollock, unknown title; I call it "Paw"
You wreck my shop and my house
and now my heart, but how can I run
from what gives me life?
I am weary of personal worrying,
in love with the art of madness.
Tear open my shame and show the mystery.
How much longer do I have to fret
with self-restraint and fear?
Friend, this is how it is.
We are fringe sewn inside
the lining of a robe.
Soon we will be loosened,
the binding threads torn out.
The beloved is a lion.
We are the lame deer in his paws.
Consider what choices we have.
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At the request of a Rumi Reader, I have enabled comments, because I agree that someone, sometime might want to write about the power of Rumi's words. So many times they have met me in ways I just have to share, and so I want you to have that opportunity here. There is no expectation for comments, but please do write something if you feel the urge. ~ Ruth