All doors open when they need to,
the light is not the end.

Some days, we race blindly into the dawn,
with the praise of God—
a thousand birds
singing a thousand songs
with no words—
pushing us forward.
Not for what has come,
but what is coming.

(March 20, 2009)
[The Book of Hours project.]

My shape is not the shape of others.
I remember the same solemn things
as everyone—

things greater than us.
But I say little.

Silence is often the wisest option,
out in dark and wet streets.

(March 18, 2009)
[The Book of Hours project.]

I want to cross the bridge
that only penitent men pass.
In me, I see weakness,
but there is a strength
that does not come from
my own breathing.

My bones will reach toward their brittle end,
but in that time
I will learn to bear
the heavy weight of God.

(March 15, 2009)
[The Book of Hours project.]

A fire starts in my dreams,
and sleep is driven from my eyes.
Everything is quickly gone—

given to the sky above.
Little glimpses of what is to come
are windows to the future.

(March 14, 2009)
[The Book of Hours project.]

From this window,
I see one of the names of God—

‘the Uprooter’.
A new hour strikes.

I wander this vast desert,
looking for the beginning,

and the end.
They are nowhere in sight.

(March 14, 2009)
[The Book of Hours project.]

Jesus tells His mother,
“I can’t stay another day longer,”
but she remains behind.

I hope one day
I find it okay to stay somewhere
even when all that’s left is a shadow.

(March 13, 2009)
[The Book of Hours project.]

There is a secret for every hour,
waiting for us to find it.
It covers us like rain,
and I continue circling around
the Throne of God without any words.
There is a light behind that door,
yearning to shine on us.

(March 13, 2009)
[The Book of Hours project.]

God’s great song feeds some of us,
without our being aware of it—

welling up from deep in the earth
to feed our ancient roots, pushing us
beyond our bounds.

Others see it fall from the sky
and let it wash them clean.

The world continues along its journey,
reaching for the promised day of freedom
from our own oppression and treason.

(March 10, 2009)
[The Book of Hours project.]

Light on the horizon
makes its daily emergence.
Some days, my eyes are able to see it.
We are created out of love,
for love—

not guilt, not repression.

(March 9, 2009)
[The Book of Hours project.]

I awake as dreamer at dawn,
the spirit raises my body
from the ground,
able to offer unweighted prayers.

People sit with me, they come from
invisible spaces, they are unseen but there.
The fire that burns outside my door
helps keep me warm.

(March 9, 2009)
[The Book of Hours project.]

I will have to find my destiny for myself,
God’s unveiling is painful,
lessons come slowly.
Like spring that is born to the tree
that has been beaten and battered
by winter storms.

(March 8, 2009)
[The Book of Hours project.]

Many days the sun doesn’t come up,
but I still praise Thee.

Time stands still, this future will not
come to pass,
our hearts sing songs that our voices can’t.
And only Thy ears can hear them.

I am not somebody who’s seen the light—
when I lay my head on my pillow,
and when morning comes,
mine’s a cold and broken Yá Bahá’u’l-Abhá.

(March 8, 2009)
[The Book of Hours project.]