This Kind of Woman

Like Mother - Like Daughter.

My mother chooses a book of poetry;
(usually Hafiz or Rumi)
she holds the books closed between her hands and then scrolls along the
Fore Edge with her eyes closed.
Then, when the feeling is 'right'
she opens to the page where her thumb rests.
Which ever poem lies on that page was chosen in correlation to your feelings.

'Words that you need to hear' - if you will.

I've been doing this along with my mother since childhood.
I think it's a beautifully inherited tradition.

Today, I opened to:

Quietness

Inside this new love, die.
Your way begins on the other side.
Become the sky.
Take an axe to the prison wall.
Escape.
Walk out like someone suddenly born into color.
Do it now.
You're covered with thick cloud.
Slide out the side. Die,
and be quiet. Quietness is the surest sign
that you've died.
Your old life was a frantic running
from silence.

The speechless full moon
comes out now.

-Rumi