Every word of thy poetry is indeed like unto a mirror in which the evidences of the devotion and love thou cherishest for God and His chosen ones are reflected. -Baha'u'llah
Part 1 - Fire
A fire is born from the tiniest spark
A flame vulnerable and inconsequential
It must be protected and gently encouraged
In order to manifest it’s inherent potential
As humans we are much the same
Though we yearn to be independent
We must be encouraged and gently guided
In order to shine light glorious and resplendent
Thus the power we have in one another’s lives
Should not be ignored or considered lightly
We have the power to accompany, to believe in and love
And to gently encourage our friends to shine brightly
We also have the power to hurt those we love
When we think we have answers that they need to learn
Through a few thoughtless words or self-righteous acts
We can smother a spark before it can burn
So remember to love and gently encourage
To trust in the capacity of those who surround you
Believe in the flame that burns in their hearts
And watch as it’s beauty shines brighter and true
Part 2 - Stone
A polished stone begins as a rock
Protected and encased by the earth
Knowing nothing of its inner beauty
Unaware of its inherent worth
To manifest its hidden and glorious potential
Its rough edges must first be removed
Thrown together with other rocks
Through collision all edges are smoothed
Much like rocks it is quite a process
For our characters to be honed and polished
It is impossible to do in solitude
Alone our ego cannot be demolished
But in our relationships can be seen a tool
For complete and total transformation
When we collide and grind off each other’s edges
We catch glimpses of our true inner station
This is the beauty of human interaction
Through it we see with new eyes
For inside every human being
Is a gem just waiting to light up the skies
Part 3 - Air
We often smother ourselves
Hiding in the depths of our past
Unable to move forward
For fear each step will be our last
The air we breathe is filled with hurt
Denial, anger, fear and shame
We barely fill our lungs with air
Each breath poisoned with blame
We stop ourselves from feeling
The breezes of God’s love
Believing ourselves broken
And unable to attain the heavens above
But what if every test we’ve faced
Was strengthening our wings
Building within us courage and nerve
To rise to the heights of kings
Within us is the power to overcome
As much as we are willing to give
And as we transform we begin to see
That to fly is to truly live
Part 4 - Water
A drop of water becomes a puddle
A puddle becomes a stream
A stream becomes a river
Reflecting every sun beam
A river flows into a sea
A sea pours into the ocean
The depths of the ocean’s wisdom
Has set this world in motion
A tie of love is as two seas
Pulling two worlds together
Creating a body so vast and deep
It can calmly overcome any weather
Though the trials of this world of dust
May briefly darken its surface
It’s beauty lies beyond all reach
In the glory of it’s Divine purpose
For from marriage flows the essence of life
The potential for the transformation of our world
As each generation learns and develops
We watch a new civilization become unfurled
Happy Birthday Mommy! You are the song of my soul and the radiance that unites our family and draws us ever closer together! I hope you know how deeply and profoundly you are loved!
This month is childhood cancer awareness month. I wrote this short story nearly two years ago. It was first published in a book called "Love: A Short Story Collection" (which you can buy on Amazon) but I've been wanting to share it on my blog as well and felt like this is clearly the appropriate month to do so.
I
Am With You Always
She wandered down
the halls of the hospital in search of an escape, some door she could open that
would change her present reality. A door that would take her to the life that
was supposed to be, the life every parent envisions when their child is born:
perfect, healthy and beautiful.
She couldn't
breathe, her lungs screaming that this couldn't be real. Like an animal being
hunted, all she knew was that she had to get away, to find some quiet place
away from sympathetic and careful expressions. Her family and friends didn't
know what to say, they ached for her, their pain written on their faces, but at
the moment those faces made her want to scream in frustration and outrage at
the injustice of it all. She knew in her heart that all they wanted was to
help, to take even an ounce of her anguish away, but how could they? Nothing
could fix this.
She read every
sign on the walls, searching for something, anything, to offer her even a
moment of solace. Her eyes honed in on the words ‘prayer room’ printed on a
door she’d never noticed before. No one would think to look for her there. With
a twinge of fear she opened the door.
Inside was a
small room, blissfully empty and quiet, with a smattering of chairs and
cushions around the walls and a table in the middle covered in books of various
shapes, colors and sizes. The walls were painted a gentle blue, and there were
a few shaded lamps that lit the room; a relief after the industrialized
lighting in the hallways. She closed the door behind her and sunk down into a
cushion directly to the right of the door.
Her knees bent
and her head in her hands, she took a shaky, wet breath. The words the doctor
had said kept echoing over and over in her chaotic mind. “Keep him comfortable…
only hours left… nothing more we can do.” How had she reached this point? She
had fought for the last 15 months with utter and complete faith that her little
boy would survive this. That he would grow up and graduate high school, go to
college and probably become a doctor, like so many other survivors of this
wretched disease, and someday get married and have children of his own. How could
she just let go of that future? How could she let go of her hopes to see him
running down the halls of his school on his first day of kindergarten in the
fall or walking with his little sister in their neighborhood trick-or-treating
in the Harry Potter costume he had been talking about since February? How could
she give up on her little boy, her monkey, her partner in crime?
Tyler’s face was
always there in her mind, his gentle, loving brown eyes, the color of honey
when the sun shines through it, his perfect pink little lips, so quick to smile
and to give kisses, the wrinkle of his forehead and squint of his eyebrows when
he was focusing, the feel of his soft skin and small body folded perfectly into
hers. Five years wasn’t enough time to cherish the gift of his existence, it
wasn’t enough time to breathe in every ounce of his essence.
She knew he was
suffering; they had been giving him the maximum amount of morphine they could
give him, and it wasn’t helping to ease his pain. She knew she had very little
time left with her little boy, and yet she also knew she couldn’t go back into
that hospital room until she was ready to accept, for his sake, that he needed
to stop fighting. Until she was ready to comfort him and hold him and tell him
that everything was going to be okay – even though her heart was screaming that
nothing about this was okay.
She and her
husband had never talked about death. It had always seemed like they would be
betraying him to even think about the possibility of his death. Not that it
hadn’t been in the back of both of their minds for the past year as they
watched their precious, beautiful child get poked with needles and have poison
shot through his veins; as they hugged him tight as he cried and tried to
explain to him that the pain, and the poking, and the surgeries would help him
to get better. They had lived his death over and over again in their minds,
terrified, afraid, helpless, but the only thing that kept them breathing was
knowing that if they fought hard enough he would get better.
But he hadn’t. He
had gotten worse, and now she was struggling to find words to explain death to
a child who was barely five years old. How could she explain something to him
that she herself didn’t even understand?
Questions kept rolling around in her mind, “What happens when a person
dies? Where do they go? Is there such a thing as life after death? If a child
dies is there a special place for them? Are there angels there who love and
cherish them?”
She lifted her
head and looked closer at the room, trying to find some answers to the infinite
and unanswerable questions that were swirling around in her mind. She noticed
the books on the table and went to look closer at them. There were a few
different versions of the Bible, five or six other Christian prayer books, a
copy of the Quran, a book that looked to be in Hebrew, a Bahá’à prayer book,
and a number of books of poetry. She picked up one of the books of poetry and
opened it to a random page. The poem on it was titled “I Am With You Always”,
and as she read it she began to reflect on her own relationship with God and
with her loved ones.
She had been raised
by parents who believed in God. Their family had always said prayers every
morning and evening together. They had often talked about what a moral,
upright, conscious person looks and acts like and they had always worked hard
to put their faith and trust in God. She and her siblings grew up with the
understanding that the tests this life offers us are here to help us grow and
develop into better people, and that this is our purpose in being alive.
However, when Tyler got sick, she had a lot of trouble understanding why God
would take a perfectly healthy innocent child and subject him to so much pain.
It was so utterly unfair that he should have to go through this. How could
anyone find meaning in a child’s suffering?
People would say
“God doesn’t test us beyond our capacity,” but He did. He tested her beyond
hers, and she broke. She had begged and pleaded with Him over and over when
Tyler first got sick: to heal him, to make him healthy, to take her instead. But all she had seen was
him continuing to get more and
more sick and at some point, though she never stopped begging and
pleading, her heart stopped believing. She stopped believing that her prayers
have power and that this life has a purpose.
Sitting
in that prayer room, sherealized
that she didn’t know what she believed anymore. She had unconsciously
been blaming God for the past year for Tyler’s illness. But now faced with the
death of her loving, gentle, pure-hearted child, though she was overcome with
sadness and anger, she was also grateful beyond any gratitude she had ever
felt. Tyler’s existence in her life had changed her into a person she never
would have become otherwise. His joy, his perseverance, his forgiveness, his
love and his own unquestioning faith in God were such an example to her. She
realized that she would rather have had Tyler in her life for 5 short years
than never to have known him at all. Tyler’s light, his kindness, his love, his
smile would live on within her and her husband and his little sister and all of
their friends who had met him and watched him grow. His story and his fight had
created around them a family of people who were better for having known him,
and not a single one of them would have given up a moment of the time they were
blessed to be in his presence. His life, not his death, would be his legacy.
Sitting in the
middle of the room, she knew her time was running short. She had to return to
her little boy’s hospital room. She had to go back and hug him tight and give
him permission to stop fighting and to fly away from the sadness and sorrow of
that room. Though she knew the months and years ahead would be difficult for
her, she had to believe that her little boy would be in a better place where he
would no longer be in pain.
And so, for the
first time in a long time she said a prayer, with faith that it would be heard
and listened to. She prayed that her son would be surrounded with love and
light and joy after he died; that he would be surrounded by rainbows and clouds
that told stories, shooting stars and ladybugs and butterflies, and that he
would give her some of these signs every now and then to show her that he was
happy and safe. She prayed that he would live his last hours peacefully; that
her sorrow and her family’s
sorrow would not keep him from knowing the love and joy they felt for
having known him. She prayed that his love would live on inside of her, and she
promised that she would dedicate her life to making him proud.
27 years ago today, on June 10th, 1986, the day that I was born, a man named Farid Bihmardi was martyred in Iran. He was imprisoned for 22 months, 9 of which were spent in solitary confinement, he was not allowed access to his family or friends, was tortured, kept in horrible conditions and brutally murdered simply because he was a member of the Baha'i Faith and was serving at the time on a body of nine individuals charged with keeping track of the administrative affairs of the community of believers in Iran.
His martyrdom though an immensely important event in my own life, was not a singular occurrence, since the Iranian Revolution in 1979 the Baha'is of Iran have been intensely persecuted. There are currently over 100 Baha'is imprisoned in Iran, some because they were striving to provide education to the Baha'i Youth in Iran who are being systematically kept from obtaining university degrees, some because of their efforts to be a part of the social transformation of their communities, and seven individuals for doing exactly the same thing that Farid was martyred for - for administering the social and religious affairs of the Baha'i Community in Iran.
These seven individuals were imprisoned five years ago and two years later were sentenced to 20 years imprisonment. The longest sentence of any prisoners of conscience currently held in Iranian prisons.
I am inspired by their strength and perseverance, and I pray with all my heart that their trials and tribulations be lifted soon. And I pray that they know that their sacrifices have not been for nothing, that their strength and courage have inspired millions of people around the world, of which I am just one.
I wrote the following song to honor a man, whom I have never met, a man who brought joy and radiance to his fellow prisoners, who was a light and a beacon of love and Faith to all who met him. A man who has impacted my life in ways far beyond the range that my small song can express.
A Martyr’s Gift
[verse 1]
As a baby I was taken to His shrine
On the threshold I was lain as a silent prayer
A prayer that His protection would be mine
That His guidance and love would always be there
And it has been all through my life
For you have always been with me
A calming strength in times of strife
A guide and friend endlessly
[chorus 1]
O Farid, O Farid
Your selflessness and grace
Has brought me to this place
You’ve been my light in the darkest night
My eyes when I had lost my sight
You gave me strength to do what was right
With the love you released as your soul took flight
[verse 2]
Walking down the path tonight
You take each step as I do
All that has passed and all that might
Has been and will be done for you
As your joyous soul was set free
On that radiant and blessed morn
It forever connected you and me
For that was the day that I was born
[chorus 2]
O Farid, O Farid
Your selflessness and grace
Has brought me to this place
You’ve been my light in the darkest night
My eyes when I had lost my sight
You gave me strength to do what was right
For I was born as your soul took flight
[bridge]
Taken before your time was through
For His Cause you lived and died
My life and death I give to you
O Martyr, watching from on High
[chorus 2]
Here are a few links in relation to the persecution of Baha'is in Iran and specifically in relation to Farid Bihmardi:
Sitting on your shoulders
I have never felt so tall
The world before my eyes
Knowing you'll catch me if I fall
My heart alight with joy
As we watched the world unfurl
Kindred spirits, you and I
A daddy and his little girl
You'd read to me at bedtime
Stories of beauty and of wonder
Tales of courage and purity
And a lesson in every blunder
I'd fall asleep too quickly
To catch all the words you'd share
But you'd ask me what I last remembered
And we'd always start again from there
When my mind was filled with worry
And I tossed and turned all night
When sickness kept me awake
You were my soul's comforting sight
You would chase away my fear
You, your book and the light in the hall
Every nightmare conquered
And into gentle sleep I would fall
Still to this day when my mind races
I close my eyes and can see you there
A beacon of strength in the darkness
Challenging my fears to appear if they dare
This is who you are to me
You've lifted me high as the sky
Been my protector, my warmth, my light
And taught me to love, to dream and to fly
Two hearts who put their faith in God
When they went to that threshold to pray
Built a legacy of love filled with joy and light
Which I honor with wonder today
Founded upon a certainty
That they were meant to be with one another
They joined hands and hearts thirty years ago this day
And later became my father and mother
A fleeting moment was their time on this mountain
Yet those precious years are the essence of our story
For their love was created and added to twice
In the shadows of His ancient and radiant Glory
Their service and sacrifice were a beacon in our lives
A foundation on which we learn and grow
And my heart overflows as I stand here today
Where our journey began thirty years ago
Two hearts brimming with Thy grace
Their souls aflame with Thine embrace
Guided to each other by Thy hand
Meet today at Thy command
Two families linked by their affection
Reveling in this world’s perfection
United in joy and love’s elation
In awe of the brilliance of God’s creation
Two wings of a dove soaring in the skies
A union which breaks all ego’s ties
Glorious reflections of Thy light
Beacon’s of love in the dark of night
Two bright orbs threaded into one
Radiant as a midnight sun
In servitude they promise their life
As they become husband and wife
Two seas join in eternal devotion
The pearls of their love illumine the ocean
Hearts the world over will become ignited
As with a vow of love these two souls are united
He is God!
O peerless Lord! In Thine almighty wisdom Thou hast enjoined marriage upon the peoples, that the generations of men may succeed one another in this contingent world, and that ever, so long as the world shall last, they may busy themselves at the Threshold of Thy oneness with servitude and worship, with salutation, adoration and praise. “I have not created spirits and men, but that they should worship me.”¹ Wherefore, wed Thou in the heaven of Thy mercy these two birds of the nest of Thy love, and make them the means of attracting perpetual grace; that from the union of these two seas of love a wave of tenderness may surge and cast the pearls of pure and goodly issue on the shore of life. “He hath let loose the two seas, that they meet each other: Between them is a barrier which they overpass not. Which then of the bounties of your Lord will ye deny? From each He bringeth up greater and lesser pearls.”²
O Thou kind Lord! Make Thou this marriage to bring forth coral and pearls. Thou art verily the All-Powerful, the Most Great, the Ever-Forgiving.
I walk in the footsteps of those come before me
And yet I pave my own path along the way
Following their example, I learn from their triumphs
Letting their dedication illumine each day
Their legacy stamped on each page of my story
Their service measured by each wave on the bay
A fleeting moment was their time on this mountain
Yet engraved in every pebble will their sacrifices stay
