Tall Sycamore

i

saw you standing

like a

tall sycamore.

booming voice

of a lion

words

of

steel

and gold.

like a young girl

i swooned;

like a lioness

i approached

with stealth

and confidence

and engaged

you…

you

were not

mine

to capture

your free spirit

and earthly ties

outweigh

my pull.

but our moment

of engagement

keeps us

connected

in the distance

and wide space

of time.

where i walk

in humility

the lioness

in retreat

to her

pride.

and

you,

still

tall

and proud;

stand

like

the sycamore.


Linda Tauhid

4/29/15

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Poem for “O” and Lounés

if i

could write

a poem

like “O”

(Okaji)

–observe an

inanimate

object

create word-pictures

that speak

enliven 

make

it

vibrate

and sing.

and meditate

in meter

and brevity

eliciting

universal

truths…

or

if my pen

could flow

like that

of Lounés

(With a Pen)

an instrument

that

glows 

with love

and longing;

capturing divine

images

and

Propheticﷺ

praise

and

glory-

the

product

of

an

enlightened heart…

yet

i

am just

a

plodding poet,

a closet

mystic,

a silent

sufi;

who dreams

in vivid

image

and hidden

symbols;

seeking

only

to perfect

my heart

and empty

it 

in pursuit

of

nothing

else.


Linda Tauhid

4/27/15



Love Reflections

i

have dwelled

in

the realm

of human love–

an elementary

domain.

charging

fallible

beings

who understood

no more

than i

with

responsibility

for me.

it is good

that i have

had

decades

of time…

in which

to see

the puzzle

of life

and it’s lessons

unfold.

and to

finally

believe-

beyond doubt-

in the infallibility

of love

in its true essence;

unbridled

by demands;

restoring

nutritive,

and gracious

in its

Source

and its

articulation.

Linda Tauhid

4/11/15



Dennis

i heard

that you

were gone–

long gone…

i did not know.

i have thought of 

you

your face

your lively manner

and i have wondered…

we used to dance

you skillful,

me a spirited bumbler.

before i visited Africa

I saw her

in your face

dark and smiling

with unique

and loving

terrain.

you never

got

to grow old

to glance

into

a mirror

and see

your father’s 

look…

and me,

i

am still here…

surrounded by

the vestiges

of death

and life

hearing

the daily

announcements–

waiting

my turn

and seeking

solace,

joy,

and certainty

in

meaningful

ways.


Linda Tauhid

4/1/15