Ocean Baby

Under the city we descended, 
Submersible explorers, loaded torpedoes, 
Dark hallways looming like sea caverns, 
Abandoning light to darkness. 
There we showed you a new world 
Aquatically hidden, bubbly as your bum, 
Fishes flowing freely round corals, 
Eels squirming out of their holes, 
Penguins plunging through the water. 
Our flotilla entered a tunnel most peculiar, 
Where we found ourselves surrounded 
By a school of sharks meandering above. 
You danced, you shrieked, you pointed, 
Eyes wide, brimming with joy and wonder, 
Adoration collected, waves coalescing, 
The city surrendering to your shiny glow, 
Dear baby, chubby little cherub, 
Roly-poly chatterbox, alert piper, 
Drawing faces to your smile like bees to a flower. 

The Forty Rules of Love, Elif Shafak

Shams was such a confrontational and quarrelsome person, always inspiring opposition by stirring up conventional thought with his unusual opinions. You might even call him heartless, for marrying 15-year-old girl who loved him more than anything and refusing to return it. His 40 rules of love are spiritual ones, not romantic- an irony the author uses by having him reject any love associated with real relationships (other than Rumi, whom he strangely cannot detach from). 

Ella faces a similar moral dilemma with love: that she has to abandon her children to find romance, with a man who also happens to be a Sufi. Only this Sufi lives in the modern age, and has no problem being in a romantic relationship with someone who left her kids. 

In light of this, the reader might gather that Shams' 40 rules aren't exclusive, they are only meant to be guidelines. None of them address dealing with loss, unrequited love, grief, sacrifice, or the challenges of being in a relationship. That the rules are limited to being spiritual means the author can expose the faults of people who can't see beyond this worldview. I kept waiting for one of Sham's rules that would put to rest the shame of marrying that girl, but none came. Similarly, I waited for Ella to discover a rule that would bring her back to her family. That didn't happen either. It makes the reader wonder if the author intended for Shams to teach such a narrow scope of love. Ella was, after all, one of his disciples. 

Either way, I found the rules to be very useful for finding peace. They are cleverly inserted into the story at all the right moments. I'll be reading this one again. 

Timeless

If we slept when we were tired, 
Ate when we were hungry, 
Worked whenever we wanted, 
Rested when we were weary, 
Timeless the clocks would fall. 
 
If we did things more slowly, 
Executed our actions with care, 
Drove like we weren't trying to get somewhere, 
Studied what we didn't know with patience, 
Timeless the clocks would fall. 
 
If we turned off our phones, 
Created our art with due diligence, 
Sailed the seas without a destination, 
Lived in the present, killed the past and future, 
Timeless the clocks would fall. 

August Evenings

I live in the vale, in a lively neighborhood, 
With dogs barking, mosquitoes buzzing, 
Children playing at their camp outs, 
Their forts of light illuminating the trees, 
Their laughter serenading the yards with joy. 
Explosions of fireworks echo distantly, 
Police sirens scream over the hills, 
A hot air balloon breathes propane, downwind, 
Where the moon came up with the stars. 
My telescope searches the constellations 
For other evidence of noise, farther away, 
Yet more observable to those who listen right. 
 
At twilight I take a walk, past the old houses, 
Under streetlights recasting my shadow, 
While the parties are still going, intermittent 
Sounds of summer composing a cantata. 
Some people still have their garages open, 
Revealing all their curios to the world 
In messes of fractured organization. 
A horde of drunken men salute their beers 
At me, just a passersby, who only heard 
A fraction of their profane conversation. 
Two lovers swing in a hammock, arm in arm, 
Burying their troubles in each other's embrace, 
The garden lights staging a romantic haven. 
 
Up I go, out of the vale and onto the vista, 
Where the night sky is more visible, 
The last remnants of sunset surrendering 
To the moon, supreme on her indigo pedestal. 
Up here the houses are bigger, newer, cleaner, 
It's oh so quiet, not a sound can be heard, 
Only the faint breeze coming off the roofs. 
All the lawns are freshly manicured, 
Every light works, every window is shut. 
Everyone's inside for the evening 
After a long summer day, comfort drawn, 
Cozy in their wealth, proud of their status. 
 
Someday, I wonder, if my walk will reverse, 
The vista lent in yearning, yearning lent to the vale.