Pouffe

Recovering from a cold, I have spent most of the day inside, dozing over a book. The late-day light clings to an old battered pouffe that has been with me many years. I use it to store clothes that are the wrong size for the moment. I own jeans in four different sizes. So this old pouffe, the zipper on the bottom broken, serves as footstool and reminder that whatever is fat will be skinny again, whatever is skinny will be fat. I love its battered, scuffed, and dented finish. 

This poem by Rumi speaks to me of love that comes late in life, love that comes to bodies that have been fat, and skinny, and fat again, bodies that have lived through many storms and are more interesting for their scars, dents, and scuffs.

Daring Enough to Finish

Face that lights my face, you spin
intelligence into these particles
I am. Your wind shivers my tree.
My mouth tastes sweet with your name
in it. You make my dance daring enough
to finish. No more timidity! Let
fruit fall and wind turn my roots up
in the air, done with patient waiting.

Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks. 


I close with thoughts of concern for all beings in Haiti and Cuba, reeling from a massive hurricane. May all beings be safe.