I GOT KIN
(by Hafiz, from the book The Gift)
So that your own heart
So God will think,
I got kin in that body!
I should start inviting that soul over
For coffee and
Because this is a food
Our starving world
Because that is the purest
I read this poem at my father’s funeral as part of my tribute to him. I read it because it spoke to me as a way to connect my understanding of spirituality with his, and I read it because in some way I couldn’t quite put into my own words, it expressed both my current sorrow and the promise of healing.
Even more recently, though, this poem keeps coming up and wrapping its arms around me, offering me deep comfort. The kind that finds the gnarliest edges of loneliness and gently bandages them so they can heal quietly in their own time.
This is a word-salve that asks to be shared, so … here …<offering you the poem> … apply some where you need it most.
The words “I got kin” keep whispering a soothing breeze through my heart:
- I got kin … in the scads of siblings and in-laws and niephews who have become that song when I’m starving, that pure laugh when the depth of life (and death) turns into rough static, the song when my heart is starving for the food of connection.
- I got kin … in every one of you who has experienced loss — of any kind — and kin in those who have also felt the near-ecstatic moment of realizing that the pain *does* let up.
- I got kin … in every plant that goes through the cycle of growth that includes a necessary quiet time of stillness through winter in preparing for the burst of new life in spring.
- I got kin … in the intertwining notes of harmony that find the places words can’t reach and bathe them in sunshine.
- I got kin … in the cat who puts her soft little paw on my shoulder while I write.
- I got kin … in the energy of the universe (some call it God) that invites my soul over for cinnamon rolls and coffee.
So Plant. Love. Sing. Laugh … because you got Kin.